


Kyle, the Pageant King

by BobsBurgersStories, MJJslilgrl (BobsBurgersStories)



Category: South Park
Genre: Awards, Basketball, Beauty Pageants, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Coaches, Competition, Contests, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Gen, Manipulation, Mild Language, Modeling, Mother-Son Relationship, My First South Park Fic, My First Work in This Fandom, No Slash, Present Tense, Pushy, Secrets, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobsBurgersStories/pseuds/BobsBurgersStories, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobsBurgersStories/pseuds/MJJslilgrl
Summary: After one too many people comment on her son's good looks, Sheila decides to put that theory to the test and enters Kyle in a beauty pageant.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone. I finally decided to upload this here. I hope you enjoy reading.  
> This story takes place before season 19, but it's based on classic South Park, so it doesn't really follow any timeline. So, Mr Garrison is still their teacher, and there's no PC Principal.  
> I made all the boys' a year younger, as well, just to begin with.

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 1

Every time the Broflovski family went out, Sheila received the same comments over and over again, directed towards her eldest son, Kyle.

“What an adorable little boy!”

“Such lovely eyes.”

“Can I just say, you have a very handsome son.”

“Beautiful boy; just beautiful.” No matter how many times Sheila heard words like that, she swelled with pride. Of course, she thought her son was beautiful, with his vivid red curls, his emerald green eyes and his smooth, pale skin, but she was his mother. Every parent felt the same about their children, but to have other people acknowledge her child meant that she was not alone with her thoughts, she was not biased. Her son really was good looking.

Kyle himself seemed slightly embarrassed of all the attention he received, and tended to only politely smile at the adults who praised him. He still didn't have much self-esteem after that list incident. Even though it had been proven that the list was fake, it had really knocked the boy's confidence.

The Broflovski family were shopping at a local mall just outside of South Park one cold January afternoon and were frequently stopped by strangers who complimented the seven-year-old boy. Sheila beamed proudly and one little old lady even asked if Kyle was a child model and then, when she learned that he was not, suggested that he should be one.

The fact that that little old woman thought her son good looking enough to grace magazine covers made Sheila want to burst. And that was where she first thought of the idea.

“Kyle, how would you feel if I entered you in a beauty pageant?” she asked as they were driving back to South Park.

“A what?” to say that Kyle looked disgusted would be an understatement.

“A beauty pageant, bubbe; a chance for everyone to see how handsome you are.”

“No.”

Sheila eyed her son in the rear view mirror.

“Kyle, this could be good for you! You'd be able to get up on stage and show off. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“Not really.”

“Sheila, if he doesn't want to -” Gerald began but was quickly cut off by his domineering wife.

“Oh, Gerald, I have a feeling that he would really enjoy it!”

“I don't think I would. Besides, I don't think they even do pageants for boys, Ma,” Kyle was picturing countless little girls in frilly dresses and heavy makeup performing their perfectly choreographed dance routines. It was not something he wanted to be a part of.

“I'm sure they do; I'll look it up when we get home.”

True to her word, Sheila was on the computer as soon as the family arrived home and had soon called Kyle into the room, a look of triumph on her face. “There are pageants for boys, and there's one being held in Denver next month.”

“Aw, Ma, I really don't -”

“I really think you should, bubbe. Just to at least try it. I think you'll have a lot of fun. Please, just do it this once, and if you don't like it, then you won't have to do any more, okay?”

“... Okay, but just once.” Truthfully, Kyle couldn't see a way out of it, and it was just the one pageant. How bad could it be?

“Oh, good! I'll register you right now!” Sheila beamed as she turned her attention back to the computer.

As soon as he had left the room, Kyle rolled his eyes. He didn't want to compete, but he knew he had no choice; once his mother got an idea into her head, she could seldom be talked out of it. So, seeing as how there was nothing he could do, he settled down on the sofa to watch “Terrence and Phillip.”

A few hours later, he was called into the garage by his mother and upon entering, he found masking tape in the shapes of 'X's in the shape of a 'T' on the floor.

“What's this?” he asked, stepping further into the room.

“Right, I've registered you. 'Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado'. You're going to be competing in three different categories; beauty, talent and casual wear and I've entered you in all of the optional categories; most photogenic, best dressed and best personality. I'll sort out all your clothes. You need to practise.” Kyle blanched.

“Practise what?”

“Your walk, your moves, your smile; everything. Don't worry,” she added, looking at her son's face. “I'll show you what to do; I've been researching. First, they'll call out your name and then you go to your first 'X',” she demonstrated, walking gracefully and standing perfectly poised on the mark. Kyle bit back a grin as Sheila smiled at the non-existent judges. “When you get to the first X, you need to spot the judges and make eye contact with them. With the girls, it's all very serious, but the boys get to loosen up a bit. Just smile and show your personality.

“The judges will usually be here at the end of the catwalk. Now you walk over to the second X and then turn and go down to the third X, which will be at the end of the runway. There, you turn, to let the judges see your outfit, strike a pose before making your way back to your second X. Then go to the fourth X, do another turn, strike another pose and then walk off stage. Got that?”

“Uhh...” Kyle hadn't understood half of what Sheila had said. She had certainly done her research and he privately thought she was going a little overboard for one pageant.

“Never mind, bubbe. You'll pick it up. Now, get over there; I'll be the emcee and when I introduce you, go to your first X.” Sheila sat down in a chair as Kyle faithfully obeyed her orders. “Okay, presenting contestant number one, Kyle Broflovski! No, wait. What are you doing?” she barked before Kyle had even taken two steps on the makeshift stage.

“I'm walking.”

“You need to smile as soon as you step on stage! Start again.” Sighing, Kyle obliged. “Remember to spot your judges. Wait, why are you looking at the floor?”

“I'm looking for the X.”

“Don't look at the floor; you need to be looking at the judges!”

“How am I supposed to see the X?”

“You can still look at it; just don't look directly at it. Look out of the corner of your eye. Do it again. Spot your judges. Good! Okay, now go over to your second X. Quickly, quickly! Pause for a moment. Now down the runway. Stop right there. Good! Turn around. No, slower! Do it again. Slowly, smoothly, _slowly, smoothly”_

“How do I turn smoothly?” Kyle was beginning to get frustrated.

“Cross your right foot over your left and turn on the balls of your feet. Nicely! Now strike a pose. Well, don't just stand there. I know; blow the judges a kiss!”

“What?” Kyle pulled a face.

“Blow them a kiss.”

“Ma, I'm not blowing the judges a kiss.”

“Well, you have to do something – unless you'd rather wink at them?” she suggested and Kyle balked.

“Alright, I'll blow them a kiss,” the boy relented and Sheila smiled.

“Okay, now, back up the runway,” she ordered, “back to the second X and pause. Pause! Turn around to face your judges. Smile, smile. Okay, now over to your fourth X. That's it. Turn around again. Slower, smoother. Good! Now put your hands on your hips, turn to the left and look back over at the judges and smile.. good. Wave and then walk off the stage. Whew!” Sheila flopped into her chair. “That was good for a first try,” she said as Kyle approached her. “There is a time limit; you only have a minute and a half to do that on stage.”

“How'd you know all this?”

“I called up the organiser, because I wasn't too sure. So we need to get it right.”

“Does it really matter? I mean, it's just a beauty pageant.”

“Well, of course it matters, Kyle!” Sheila straightened up. “Don't you want to win? It wasn't cheap to enter you in this, and I want you to do well. I only want what's best for you, bubbe.”

“I know you do, Ma.”

“Good. Now let's do it again, and this time, smile the whole way through,” she reminded him as Kyle walked back over to the 'stage.'

“But it hurts my face after a while,” he complained.

“Practise makes perfect, bubbe.”

* * *

Every day the following week, as soon as Kyle returned from school and had finished his homework, Sheila took him into the garage where she put him through his paces, practising his walks, his poses, his smile, all with music. Kyle had to practise for at least an hour everyday, or until Sheila deemed his performance okay.

She was a woman on a mission; determined for her son to win so it could be proven that he was indeed a very good-looking child, and the only way Kyle would win would be to know what was expected of him and to surpass that. With all his practising, Sheila didn't see how Kyle could not win.

She had already picked out his clothes; for formal wear, Kyle would wear his Sunday suit. For casual wear, he was going to wear black slacks and a white dress shirt (for this, Kyle would roll up his shirt sleeves in an effort to appear more casual and relaxed; Sheila thought it was sweet and she knew the judges would agree), and for his talent, Kyle would demonstrate his basketball skills and would wear his school basketball uniform.

Kyle didn't bother even trying to fight his mother as she made him practise his walks and talent routine over and over again. She did want what was best for him, after all, and it was only for this one pageant.

* * *

A few weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, they were in the car, costumes stored carefully in the boot, on their way to Denver; the two-day competition was to be held the following day. Gerald was staying at home to look after Ike.

“Ma?” asked Kyle from the back seat. “Why are we going today if the pageant is tomorrow?” Kyle had barely stepped through the front door as he returned from school before Sheila had bundled him into the car.

“To get in some practise on the stage, and also we'll need to be up early to fix your hair.”

“Can't we just leave it the way it is?”

“Definitely not.” Kyle did not press the subject and instead stared out of the window until they arrived at the hotel an hour later where the pageant was being held. Kyle saw a large poster promoting the pageant just outside of the doors.

It was a fairly nice hotel, Kyle thought, looking up at the white brick building as he followed his mother through the foyer as she carried the suitcases. The floors were nicely carpeted, a large table was in the centre with a vase of flowers and some magazines resting on it, surrounded by squashy chairs. A few sofas rested along the walls and the receptionist was seated behind a mahogany desk.

There were dozens of parents laden down with luggage with lots of little girls and a few little boys queueing up to sign in, and Sheila and Kyle got in line. Many of the mothers were laden down with suitcases. Some of the children were running around the lobby, squealing with laughter, a few of them with their hair already in rollers.

When they had finally registered, the two Broflovskis made their way up to their hotel room. It was a decent sized room with bare creamy walls, two single beds decorated in garish floral bedspreads, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small cabinet with a little television on it. A door to their immediate right opened into a bathroom. As Sheila unpacked and hung Kyle's clothes up, Kyle went over to the window and examined the view; the hotel car park and the motorway beyond that.

“Shall we go see where the pageant is being held?” suggested Sheila, having carefully hung up Kyle's clothing in the wardrobe.

“Sure,” Kyle agreed and they headed downstairs from their room on the fourth floor. When they reached the foyer, they followed the mothers and their children to a large, airy ballroom, the doors of which were plastered with posters and flyers advertising second hand pageant clothes, spray tan services, seamstresses and the like.

There was a stage erected at one end of the room, upon which one little girl was already practising under the watchful eye of her mother.

There were around sixty folding chairs facing the stage, where other participants were sitting, waiting for their turn. Kyle and Sheila waited patiently as child after child had their turn on the stage. Kyle only wanted to wait until everyone was gone, or at least until a few boys' had gone up there; so far, there had been only girls.

After the girls' had successfully completed their routine, they and their parents left the room, to Kyle's relief, although a few stayed to check out the opposing competition.

When everybody else had had their turn, Kyle reluctantly made his way to the stage and ran through his beauty walk while Sheila watched carefully. The runway was a lot longer than he expected it to be. There was a glittering board with the words 'Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado 2015” on it resting on the back wall, made from a curtain where the contestants would enter from the side, with more curtains either side of the stage, blocking the back room from view.

“Remember to take your time,” she reminded and Kyle nodded, concentrating on turning smoothly. When he had finished, they went back to their room to get some sleep, even though it was only eight p.m.; Sheila said they that would need to be refreshed for the competition.

Kyle lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, dreading the following day. It wasn't stage fright that was bothering him; it was the fact that he was going to have to have complete strangers judge him on his looks. Kyle had always hated the concept of beauty pageants and now that he was competing in one, he hated them even more.

The boy tried to console himself that by Monday, it would all be over and done with and he would never have to do another one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyle competes in the "Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado" pageant.

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 2

Extremely early the next morning, both Sheila and Kyle were awake, with Sheila attempting to tame her son's wild curls. She had already used copious amounts of gel and water, but no matter what she did, she couldn't get his hair to flatten.

“I think it'd be alright if I just went up like this,” Kyle suggested, tired of being pulled to and fro.

“Nonsense, bubbe; we need to have you looking like we actually put some effort in,” Sheila grunted, pulling the comb through Kyle's hair.

Eventually, she managed to smooth and straighten the curly locks and had arranged it into a coiffed style. “There!” she grinned triumphantly, fixing the hair into place with what appeared to be an entire can of hairspray.

They arrived at the ballroom in good time and Kyle, now wearing his pristine suit, looked around as his mother steered him through the room. The emcee was playing pop music and encouraging people to dance while they waited for the pageant to begin “You have a line-up with your group before you go on stage,” Sheila told him. “You just walk on in order, smile for a bit and then walk back off. There are three other boys' in your age group, and you'll go on in numerical order.” Kyle looked down at the number that was attached to his right jacket pocket; a large '3' was emblazoned on it.

There were children of all ages and both genders, but mostly little girls in their perfect outfits scattered throughout the room, along with their parents.

Kyle and Sheila took a seat at the back and watched silently as the pageant began and progressed. The first round of competition was the 'beauty' or 'formal wear' round. The contestants would simply model their best dress or tux on the stage, being sure to turn on the correct places and smile at the judges.

The children competed in age order, so the babies had their turn first, their mothers carrying them on stage to show them off as the emcee described the children to the judges, two men and two women who were sitting at a table at the end of the catwalk. First the boys' age group went up and then the girls.

“Lacey has golden blonde hair and big blue eyes,” said the emcee as the eight-month-old was paraded around on stage in a pink frilly dress by her beaming mother. “She enjoys sleeping and playing with her mommy. Her ambition... is to grow up.”

After all of the baby girls and boys' were finished, the pageant then moved on the three-to-four age group; this was the age where the children were expected to go on stage by themselves, model and show a bit of their personality. There were no boys' in this category. The little girls glided down the runway in their glittering glitzy dresses as their mothers stood behind the judges' table, cheering them on and guiding them in what to do next. After every contestant, Kyle and his mother applauded politely.

As the five-to-six year olds battled it out, Kyle yawned and rested his head in his hands. He was so bored; how could anyone enjoy this?

As soon as a contestant had finished on stage, they were immediately whisked off to change clothes for the next category. By the the time the seven-to-nine year old group – Kyle's age group - was getting ready, the mothers of the baby contestants had returned, their children in a completely different outfit.

Sheila took Kyle backstage to the boys' area where four other little boys were waiting.

“Remember to keep your head up and smile,” she instructed. “Good luck, bubbe,” she and the other mothers then left to watch their children compete.

“Is this your first one?” a perfectly coiffed little boy asked Kyle. He was quite tanned with deep blue eyes and golden hair.

“Yeah; my mom wanted me to do it,” Kyle admitted.

“Does she want you to win?”

“.. Yeah.”

“All our moms' want us to win. Everyone gets a trophy,” he added after a while, somewhat bitterly.

“Really? Good, then that means this is the only pageant I'll do. No offence,” Kyle added, but the boy shook his head.

“Everyone gets a prize, but everyone wants to win first place. You probably won't; you're a newbie.”

“I might.”

“Yeah, maybe,” the boy didn't look convinced.

“Either way, it'll be my last one; if I win first place, then we're done. If I don't, then I'll still have won something and then I'll tell her I don't want to do it any more.” The boy was staring at him pityingly.

“If you win a smaller prize, you're gonna keep comin' back until you win first place. If you win first place, you're gonna keep comin' back to maintain your title.” There was an air of finality in his voice. Kyle was horrified, but he had no time to dwell because the boys' were moving toward the stage. Quickly getting in line, Kyle climbed the steps onto the stage and followed the other contestants as they lined up in the centre of the stage. Unsure of what to do, Kyle followed the other boys' lead and smiled at the audience until the emcee thanked them, which was their cue to leave.

Sheila had been stood behind the judges table during the line-up, observing her son, and had caught a few glimpses of their conversation.

“Nice hair colour on the redhead,” Sheila knew they were talking about Kyle because he was the only redhead in his group.

“A bit pale, though,” Sheila was already making plans to tan Kyle when one of the other judges piped up.

“Yeah, but it works. With his hair colour, he wouldn't look good tanned.” Sheila grinned, moving away as the first boy in Kyle's line-up was announced and he stepped on stage.

As the first and second boys' had their turns on stage, Kyle waited next to the steps, wondering what his mother would do if he just walked out. He really didn't want to do this. Before he had the chance, his name was called and Kyle stepped onto the stage, hitching his smile into place.

Kyle walked over to his first X and faced the audience, smiling awkwardly, barely remembering to keep his head up. He remembered what Sheila had said about spotting the judges and making eye contact with them, but the lights were so bright, not to mention the constant flashing of the photographer's flashbulb camera, he couldn't see _anybody,_ so he just aimed a smile at where he supposed they were. He felt incredibly silly and self-conscious on stage, and it showed; Sheila was watching him and frowning. Kyle's smile kept slipping, he wasn't showing his personality, his walk was either too fast or too slow and he didn't make eye contact with the judges.

“Kyle has red hair and green eyes,” announced the emcee as Kyle continued his routine, and made his way down the catwalk, reading off Kyle's entry form. “His hobbies include: playing with his friends, reading and helping to take care of his little brother.” They weren't really hobbies, Kyle thought, completing a turn and almost tripping over his own feet; his hobbies would include playing video games and watching “Terrence and Phillip.” Of course, Sheila wanted to make him look good. “With an ambition to be a basketball player, this is Kyle Broflovski. Thank you, Kyle!” The boy walked off stage to the sound of applause, blinking the lights out of his eyes. Sheila appeared in front of him and lead him back to his seat.

“You did okay,” she said as they walked through the ballroom. “You needed to smile more and show a bit more personality, and for goodness sake, make sure you look at the judges and turn properly!”

Kyle said nothing as he sat back down to watch the rest of his group compete. The other kids were a lot more poised and polished than him, he noted.

The boy couldn't help wishing he'd brought his phone or a console to keep himself entertained. Watching the other children do their routines, Kyle zoned out, attempting to sleep with his eyes open.

After a few moments, Sheila and Kyle left the room and made their way back to the hotel room; for them, the pageant was over for the day. Tomorrow, Kyle would compete in the talent and casual wear categories and then the crowning ceremony would be held tomorrow evening.

Kyle remained silent as they entered their hotel room and immediately changed into his pyjamas and he shoved his ushanka over his hated coif. He felt quite tired and flopped onto his bed, falling asleep not long after, while Sheila hung up his suit; Kyle would wear it tomorrow evening for the crowning ceremony. She really believed he could win, she knew he would win something. Okay, Kyle was an amateur; it was obvious on stage that he wasn't polished as the rest of the contestants. As he was a boy, it wasn't that noticeable; with the girls, their hand, arm and foot placements had to be on point every time. With the boys', it wasn't that strict; they didn't have to hold their arms out just so, or have one foot placed perfectly in front of the other, it was more relaxed, but they still had to be smooth and poised. Kyle wasn't that poised yet, especially compared to the rest of his age group, but Sheila hoped that the judges would look past that and judge him on his smile and his beauty.

Even though it was only 4:00pm, Sheila climbed into her own bed, and fell asleep, needing to get some rest before the rest of the competition.

* * *

The next morning, both Sheila and Kyle were awake, though not as early as they had been the previous day. Kyle's hair didn't need to be styled as much; as he had slept with his hat on, his hair had mostly stayed in place all night.

The first category that Kyle was going to compete in that day was casual wear. He was wearing his white dress shirt, his black slacks and his black dress shoes.

As they were a bit more familiar with the line up of events, Sheila and Kyle didn't go down to the ballroom, until the girls of Kyle's age group were competing; it meant that they didn't have to wait around so much.

Watching the little girls model their 'casual' clothes, Kyle again felt bored, but he had nothing to occupy himself with; the suitcases were full of clothes, toiletries and pageant entry forms. When he had arrived home after school on Friday, he had left his backpack on the floor in the living-room, so he couldn't even do his homework.

Before the pageant started that day, the judges reviewed several photographs of each contestant, marking them out of ten for the photogenic category. Sheila had sent them a few photos of Kyle with his entry form. The scoring from all of the categories was kept secret until the crowning ceremony which was to be held later on in the evening.

All too soon, it was time for Kyle's group line-up and Sheila led him backstage again, reminding him to keep his head up and to smile.

Just as before, Kyle lined up with the other boys' in numerical order; one of them, a slightly tanned boy with dark brown hair, was dressed similarly to him, another was wearing, high-end exquisitely tailored dungarees, while the last one was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and tan shorts. During their line-up, Kyle tried to look at the judges, but had still not gotten used to the bright lights.

When it was Kyle's turn to go on stage, he smiled after stepping on, as usual. The emcee, Mr. Smith, narrated all of the contestant's routines as they were performed.

Kyle focused on keeping his smile in place and trying not to trip over his own feet as he made his way over to his second X. As instructed, he placed one hand on his hip and tilted his head, trying not to look as awkward as he felt, smiling widely, before walking down the catwalk.

Once he reached the end, Kyle turned somewhat clumsily on the spot while rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and he looked down at them, making sure that they weren't going to fall down.

Head snapping up, Kyle quickly began to walk up the catwalk, but he remembered he wasn't supposed to yet, so he stopped. He placed both hands on his hips before turning around again and then he started to walk back up the runway. Realising that he was no longer smiling, Kyle aimed a grin in the general direction of the audience before making his way over to his fourth X. He turned again, even though his face was beginning to twitch with the effort of smiling, the host thanked him and Kyle hurriedly stepped off stage. As usual, Sheila was waiting for him.

“What was that?” she chastised, taking Kyle's hand and leading him out of the ballroom. “You barely smiled, you almost forgot your second turn and you didn't even look at the judges!”

“I can't see them, Ma.”

“I've told you where they are. I don't understand; you did just fine practising at home, but here it's like your putting in no effort at all.”

“I feel silly on stage.”

“Oh, nonsense! You looked wonderful up there!” When they arrived at their hotel room, Kyle changed into his talent wear outfit; his white school vest and shorts, lined with orange, with matching trainers. A matching sweatband wrapped around his forehead and he carried a basketball under his left arm. Sheila straightened out his clothes before they made their way back downstairs.

After his group line-up, Kyle waited backstage for his name to be called. Two of the other boys sang, one danced, and the other sang and danced.

Even though he loved basketball and was very talented at the sport, he still didn't want to do this. Kyle didn't have much time to dwell on his thoughts, for his name was called and he stepped onto the stage as the song “Get Ready for This,” by 2 Unlimited blared through the speakers. A basketball hoop was erected at one end of the stage.

Kyle paused on his first X, smiling at the judges. He then began to bounce the ball, swinging his legs over it, bending down and then standing back up again and the crowd cheered appreciatively.

Kyle then demonstrated a trick he had learnt at his basketball lessons in which he would stand on the spot and dribble the ball around his body, using only his arms to keep the ball moving; the coach had named the trick “around the world.”

Kyle dribbled the ball over to his second X, where he turned and looked at the audience. He took a step back, leaning on his left foot, and spun the ball on his finger and the crowd whooped. The ball didn't spin for as long as it was supposed to and Kyle very nearly dropped it.

The time limit for talent was two minutes and Kyle had already used half of his, so he went over to the fourth X, where the basketball hoop was and spun the ball on his finger again. It had taken him ages to learn how to do it and it was something he'd been meaning to learn for a while. The ball span for longer this time and Kyle grinned in relief.

Kyle then did a few set shots and jump shots, securing the ball in the net every single time. Catching the ball one final time, he turned to face the audience as instructed, panting slightly.

“Give it up for Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle,” encouraged Mr. Smith as Kyle stepped off stage, still panting.

“You did good,” she told him, enough praise in her voice to make Kyle grin in genuine delight. “Come on, we've got to get you changed.”

“But I thought that was it.”

“It is,” said Sheila as they marched through the ballroom. “Crowning takes place later on, and you can't be wearing that, can you?”

* * *

At 7:00pm, Kyle and Sheila were back in the ballroom, waiting for the crowning ceremony to begin. Kyle was back in his tux and was sitting next to his mother, not really paying attention until he heard the emcee calling for his group to line up on the stage and Sheila was already ushering him forward. Usually, the boys' would be crowned first according to their age groups, as it took less time than the girls', for they had more categories, more contestants, and therefore more awards.

As Kyle made his way backstage, a small blue and gold hand held trophy was pressed into his hands. Looking around, he saw that every other boy had one as well, and he supposed it was a participation award. He had always thought the idea of participation awards were ridiculous and had more than once referred to them as “pussy awards”; getting a trophy just for taking part wasn't a real award in Kyle's eyes. You either won or you didn't.

As the boys' lined up on stage, Mr. Smith waited for silence before he revealed the titles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, first we will announce the optionals for the seven-to-nine boys' group...” Kyle held onto his trophy and looked over at the emcee. “Your Best Dressed is... Joseph Lake!” The coiffed, tanned blonde whom Kyle had briefly spoken with stepped forward to the sound of applause as he was presented with a black and gold plaque. He then stepped back into the line. “Your Most Photogenic is... Kyle Broflovski!” Following Joseph's lead, Kyle stepped forward and was also presented with a plaque, almost dropping it as it was heavier than he expected.

When he was back in line, Mr. Smith announced the last of the optional titles, “your Best Personality is... Simon Hart!” Kyle hadn't seen Simon compete as he was fourth in the line up and they had always left after Kyle had competed. “Okay, your second runner up is... Tommy Jameson!” Tommy stepped forward and a medal was placed around his neck. “Your first runner up is... Joseph Lake!” Joseph was also presented with a medal, but the title of “Mini Mr Colorado” went to Simon Hart, and he received a small crown and a sash.

Kyle stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. When Mr. Smith beckoned them off stage, Kyle couldn't leave quick enough. He made his way back over to his mother and handed her the trophy and the plaque. Simon was still on stage, posing for photos, as all the winners did. It was only 7:15.

“You tired, bubbe?” Sheila asked and Kyle nodded silently. “How about we go upstairs, pack, and then we can sign out and go home?” Kyle nodded again.

“How did I do?” he asked once they were in their hotel room. He was wearing his usual orange coat and green trousers and his hat. His plaque was resting on his knees and he was reading it. “Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado 2018 Boys 7 – 9 Divisional Photogenic,” was inscribed in black on the gold cover. He didn't feel like he had accomplished anything.

“You did okay. The other kids are trained; you're not,” Kyle nodded again, accepting the truth and placed the plaque in his mother's suitcase as she finished packing.

It took them a while to sign out of the hotel; most of the other mothers had had the same idea, but they managed to be on the road at 8:00pm, with Kyle wondering what he was going to say to Stan when he saw him tomorrow. Eventually, he decided that he wouldn't say anything; there was no point, he was never going to do another pageant and Kyle would never mention this weekend if he could help it.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it, bubbe?" asked Sheila as they drove down the motorway. Kyle's trophy were resting on the seat next to her. Kyle didn't answer. "How would you feel about doing another one?"

"No, thanks," said Kyle from the back seat.

"Why not?"

"I didn't really enjoy it," Kyle hesitated before answering.

"Well, it was only your first one. Think of this as a practice run."

"Ma, I don't wanna do any more."

"I think you should; this is a great opportunity for you."

"But you said I only had to do one and if I didn't like it, then we could stop!"

"But you enjoyed it" Sheila cut him off before he could protest. "If you didn't like doing it, you wouldn't have won anything."

"But everyone gets a prize." Kyle told her.

"Yes, but you won _two_ prizes, didn't you? I think you enjoyed it more than you're letting on." Kyle didn't answer her and remained silent for the rest of the drive.

They arrived home an hour later when night had truly fallen. Gerald was watching his sports and Ike was asleep in bed. After he had greeted his wife and child, Kyle sat with him for a while as Sheila placed the trophy on the mantelpiece and rested the plaque next to it. Tomorrow, she would hang the plaque up.

“So, how was it?” Gerald asked his son while Sheila took the suitcases upstairs. He didn't really approve of pageants, especially when his own child was concerned.

“It was alright. I won a prize,” Kyle gestured to the trophy and plaque.

“Just alright?”

“It was really boring,” Kyle admitted. “Most of it was just sitting around. Mom wanted me to do another one, but I told her no.”

“Good. Well, it's getting late; you better get on up to bed.” Kyle agreed and hopped down off of the sofa and upstairs to the bathroom. The weekend had been one of the most surreal experience of his life. Of course, living in a place like South Park, he had had a lot of surreal experiences, but this had to be in his top ten. Never had he thought that he would compete in a beauty pageant, but he had, and he had no desire to do it again.

* * *

The next morning, Kyle was waiting at the bus stop when Stan approached him.

“Hey, dude, where were you all weekend? I kept trying to call.” As much as Kyle didn't want to lie to his super best friend, he did. There was that small chance that Stan might, just might, laugh at him.

“Oh, we had to go to this thing in Denver,” it was half the truth, the boy thought.

“What thing?”

“My dad had this lawyer thing – a conference or something like that – and we all went with him.” Thankfully, Stan seemed to accept this and did not push the subject. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Kenny and Cartman.

“'Sup, assholes?” greeted Cartman in his usual fashion and was promptly ignored by Kyle.

On the bus to school, Stan filled Kyle in on what he had missed over the weekend; not much – Wendy and Bebe had fallen out again, over shoes or something this time but had made up on Sunday, and Shelley was being a real pain to Stan, due to her getting her braces tightened again.

Throughout this, Cartman kept interjecting that the reason Kyle had gone for the weekend was because he and his family were out digging for gold.

Kyle did his best to ignore his fat frenemy; he would rather let Cartman think that than really find out what he had gotten up to at the weekend.

Kyle had a blissful, ordinary two weeks in South Park. Well, about as ordinary as South Park could get; there was the start of a riot; thankfully it had been stopped before it had properly started, but no-one was too sure what had caused it; just that another episode of “Family Guy” had aired, and then the townspeople were up in arms about it. It all seemed to have been completely forgotten about by the next day. But, that was just what they did; when all was said and done, the residents of the town were content to just go about their lives as though nothing had happened.

Cartman had again been out fighting crime as his alter-ego “The Coon;” however, as there was little in the way of real crime to fight, he started giving villainous back stories to random strangers and using them as excuses for his 'vigilante justice.' That had earned him a grounding; not that Liane followed through with it and the Coon was back on the streets the next day.

However, one afternoon, Kyle returned home from school to find Sheila waiting for him.

“Hi, Mom,” he greeted as he stepped through the door.

“Hi, bubbe. It's time to get practising.” Kyle froze.

“For what?”

“For the pageant. I've entered you in the Little Miss Colorado pageant – don't worry, it's for boys, as well,” she added, misreading the look on Kyle's face.

“Ma, no!”

“What's wrong? I did this because I thought that you would enjoy it. I think you _did_ enjoy it.”

“You said I only had to do one!”

“I told you, that didn't really count; it was more of a practise one. This will be the real thing, and if you win an Overall or an Optional prize, you get your fee paid to the State pageant.” Kyle didn't understand half of what she said, but he knew that he didn't want to compete again.

“You said I only had to do one, and if I didn't like it, we wouldn't do any more. I didn't like it,” he repeated, hoping she would listen.

“What? I didn't say that.” Kyle stared at her.

“Yes, you did. That's what you said when you entered me in the first one.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but I don't remember saying that. Now, let's get practising.”

“Mom, I don't want -”

“You will do as I say, Kyle!” she snapped and, of course, Kyle immediately hopped to attention.

The boy soon found himself back in the garage, practising his routines. This pageant had the same system as the previous one, with beauty wear, talent and casual wear. Again, Sheila had entered Kyle in all of the optional categories, to further improve his chance of winning.

“Keep the head up!” Sheila reminded him, watching her son like a hawk as he practised his beauty walk. “This is a preliminary pageant; if you win, you go onto the State finals!”

Kyle kept quiet as he ran through his routines over and over again. He knew he wouldn't win, he just knew, but he carried on practising to make his mother happy. He did love his mother, and he enjoyed it when she spent time with him, instead of protesting for him, which usually led to her being so caught up in what she was doing that she ended up ignoring him. Kyle was trying to think of another activity that they both enjoyed and they could do together, but he couldn't think of any. He decided to wait until Sheila's little pageant obsession had died down before asking her.

Sheila worked tirelessly to prepare Kyle for the pageant. Just as before, every day after school, Kyle would practise in the garage while she scrutinised him, wanting everything perfect. She had purchased the official footage of Kyle's performances and scrutinized the DVD along with her son.

“See what you did there?” she pointed to the screen as Kyle watched himself stumble as he turned. “You didn't turn properly. And, there, see, you didn't look at the judges, and you've got to smile the whole time you're on stage.”

Gerald kept quiet about the whole deal; like Kyle, he thought that the novelty would soon wear off, and once it did, it would be easier to reason with Sheila.

* * *

A few weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, both Sheila and Kyle were in the car on their way back to Denver to compete in the Little Miss Colorado pageant in Denver. Kyle had planned ahead and had his homework, his phone, and some books with him, so he wouldn't be bored this time.

However, when they arrived, Sheila stayed downstairs after signing into the hotel and mingled with the other pageant parents. What she was hoping for, Kyle didn't know, and he buried his head in his phone, playing one of his “Terrence and Phillip” games.

They were in the ballroom where the pageant was to be held the following day, and the room was full of parents and children, some of them running around and playing with friends. One little girl was already practising on the stage, which was decorated in the same manner as the previous one. The air was filled with shrieks, whoops, giggles and chatter.

Sheila was engrossed in conversation with a lady who had a six-year-old daughter in the competition.

Kyle didn't speak to anyone, however; he absorbed himself with his video game, concentrating hard as it was a new one. He didn't want to be there, but he was going to have to compete and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Just as before, Sheila and Kyle had an early night and they were up frightfully early the next morning because Sheila had to fix Kyle's hair.

Kyle was extremely grateful not to be a girl at that point in time; if he was, preparation would take three times as long. At least he didn't have to wear a hairpiece or fake nails and eyelashes or get spray tanned.

Kyle's hair seemed reluctant to take part in the pageant as well, for Sheila simply could not get the brush through it, even after she dampened it with water, her son's curls did not want to lie flat.

As a result, Kyle had to make do with a sort of curled coif, due to Sheila's many re-stylings.

“We'll just have to leave it like that,” she said, not looking very happy about it, applying some more hairspray onto Kyle's head. “Come on, or we'll be late,” and they both made their way down to the ballroom. Dressed in his tux, Kyle sat down next to his mother and pulled out his phone, turning the sound right down, as they waited for the pageant to begin.

The atmosphere seemed friendly enough, Kyle thought, pausing his game and observing. There were no wary parents looking for the competition, no attempts at sabotage, or arguments about who was going to win. Most of the little girls seemed to be friends with each other, as did the parents.

All too soon, it was time for Kyle to line up on stage with his age group. There were only two other boys in his group this time, and Kyle was the first in the line-up.

When his name was called, Kyle stepped on stage to the sound of polite applause. He had a better idea of what he was doing now, but he still felt self-conscious on stage and it showed. He hardly smiled and when he did, it wasn't genuine; he still hadn't perfected his walk or his turns and he didn't look at the judges.

“What was that?” Sheila criticized the moment Kyle stepped off stage. “You really need to start putting some effort into this. You're lucky this is only a preliminary; this won't wash at a State pageant!”

Kyle, knowing that arguing was pointless, remained silent as they headed back to their hotel room to get ready for the next event.

As it was a preliminary pageant, there was a rather large number of contestants; the preliminary competition was to whittle down participants for the State pageant. Given the frightfully low number of boys' in his age group, the possibility of Kyle winning and competing in the State pageant seemed more than likely. But then the boy remembered his unpolished performance and it seemed very likely that he would go home.

The next category was casual wear and Kyle was dressed in his shirt and trousers again. Just as before, he was clumsy and awkward on stage and he still couldn't keep his smile in place. Even though he had been practising smiling, he still was unable to hold it in place for more than thirty seconds. Once again, Sheila was unimpressed with his performance, but Kyle only wanted to get the pageant over with.

Kyle's last category was the talent category, which was to be held in the afternoon, with crowning taking place in the evening. His unique talent routine raised Sheila's hopes that Kyle would be scored particularly high, therefore helping to make him eligible for the State pageant. Of course, she knew he would be scored highly in the photogenic category; how could he not be? Sheila had used a photo of Kyle sitting at a table, his head resting in his hand and another one of Kyle's latest school photo, wild curls and all. The two photos were contrasting; one posed, one unposed, and Sheila thought that these particular photos let her son's natural charm shine through. She had used these photos for their previous pageant and Kyle had won Photogenic. Sheila couldn't imagine how he could not win this time.

Just as before, Kyle's talent routine went much better than his beauty and casual wear routines. This was the only part that he truly enjoyed, because he loved playing basketball. The audience clapped and cheered as Kyle spun the ball on his finger and secured the ball in the net every time. The other two boys both sang, so Kyle really stood out.

Sheila was pleased with Kyle's performance; it was his best, but there was still room for improvement; Kyle could stand to show a little more personality and make more eye contact with the judges, and she said this to her son the moment he stepped off stage. Kyle remained silent.

After Kyle had changed out of his basketball uniform, he and Sheila headed back down to the ballroom to watch the rest of the pageant. Well, Sheila did; Kyle had brought down his homework and his phone, and he did his homework first. Maths, English and a spelling test were what he had to complete and he finished them all in no time at all. By the time he was finished, the pageant was still going strong, so Kyle, bored, switched on his phone and began to play.

The competition was finally over a few hours later, and after getting changed, the contestants all headed down to the outside pool, Kyle and Sheila included. Well, Kyle didn't know the hotel had a pool, so he hadn't brought his bathing suit, as had Sheila, so instead they (meaning Sheila) conversed with the competitors. Kyle wouldn't have gone in the pool anyway; who knew the last time it was cleaned, not to mention the fact that people peed in there; along with that, Kyle pictured the makeup and the fake tan washing off and dyeing the water, and he physically cringed. You couldn't pay him to step in a public pool.

“Your son has a very unique talent act,” one mother praised Sheila, who grinned.

“Thank you. Your daughter is a wonderful dancer,” she returned the compliment; remembering the ten-year-old's energetic hip-hop dance routine.

“Oh, thank you so much. Is this your first pageant?”

“No, our second.”

“Ah. Little Hannah's been competing for seven years now.”

“Wow. I wish I'd started Kyle earlier,” Sheila admitted. Kyle wasn't listening to the conversation for he was talking with the other boys' in his age group. Just as he had felt earlier, it was a very friendly and relaxed atmosphere. The competitors seemed genuinely interested in one another, compliments on the others' performances were sincere and it seemed that there were no enemies, only friends.

Kyle had to admit that his whole perspective on the pageant scene was slowly changing; he had always imagined them to be horribly cut-throat affairs, with none of the parents talking to each other for fear of giving away secrets and tips, contestants determined to outdo one another and the children not wanting to compete in any way, shape or form. As far as Kyle could see, the only person that didn't want to compete in the pageant was he himself.

Back inside the hotel ballroom, Kyle was wearing his tux as the crowning ceremony commenced. The youngest age category for the pageant was the three-to-five age group. Kyle was in the next group up, six-to-eight and all too soon, his group was called up on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will first announce the winners of our Optional prizes for the boys' category six-to-eight,” announced the emcee, a middle aged blonde woman by the name of Miss Waring. “Your Best Dressed goes to... Nathan Swanson!” Nathan, a dark haired little boy stepped forward and was presented with a medallion. “Your Best Smile is... David Smith!” David, however, was given a plaque and a customised sash was draped over his shoulder. The boy's brown eyes gleamed with delight from underneath his sandy hair. “And your Most Photogenic is... Kyle Broflovski!” Following Nathan and David's lead, Kyle stepped forward and was presented with a plaque almost identical to the other one he had received and a sash was also placed over his shoulder. Looking out into the audience, Kyle spotted his mother; she pointed to her cheeks and smiled, indicating that Kyle should do the same and he did. He paused while the camera flashed and then he stepped back into line.

“And now for your Divisional Personality... Nathan Swanson!” Nathan stepped forward again and was presented with a sash and a trophy. “Your Divisional Talent winner is Kyle Broflovski!” Kyle froze before stepping forward; he hadn't expected that. Another sash was placed over the one he was already wearing and he was given a twelve-inch-high white and gold trophy adorned with jewels with three golden stars on the top, each one bigger than the one beneath it, and he struggled to balance both his heavy plaque and his trophy for a moment. Again, he hurriedly smiled for the camera, before stepping back, blinking the lights out of his eyes.

David won “King,” and was awarded a crown and trophy. “And your, King, David Smith! Remember, all of our Division winners will have their fee to the State pageant paid! Give it up for your six-to-eight boys'! Great job, guys!”

Kyle struggled off stage due to his two long sashes and made his way over to his mother.

“I can't believe you won your talent!” she beamed as Kyle removed his banners. “Do you even know what that means? Your entry fee to the State pageant will be paid!”

“And what's the State pageant?” asked Kyle warily.

“A bigger version of this one. The standards are higher, so we've really got to knuckle down and practise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading!  
> Reviews and comments are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 3

A few weeks later, Sheila and Kyle were on their way to compete in the Little Miss Colorado State Pageant 2018. His sashes, plaques and trophies were carefully displayed on and around the mantel, along with framed official photographs of Kyle winning his Photogenic and Talent awards. Like the two previous competitions they had entered, this pageant was held in a hotel ballroom in Denver.

Ever since they arrived home from the preliminary pageant, Sheila had put Kyle through his paces once more, constantly scrutinizing him. Every day after school and on the weekends, he was forced to practise, his mother working him constantly.

Kyle hadn't mentioned a word of this to Stan, instead telling his best friend that he had been sick, or that he and Ike had had to accompany their parents somewhere, and fortunately, Stan believed him. Kyle truly believed that he would be competing in pageants for only a little while longer, so why bother telling his super best friend how he was made to prance around on stage, earning points for the way he looked? When the pageant scene was over and done with, Kyle _might_ let Stan know what he had been up to, but as he found the entire process humiliating, he decided that it was easier to keep quiet.

His only problem were that his awards were proudly and prominently displayed in the living-room; as soon as one entered the room, they were incredibly hard to miss. Stan would know what he had been doing. The boy supposed it wouldn't matter that much; he and Stan were super best friends; they were supposed to tell each other everything, and as he would no longer be competing after this pageant, Kyle thought there could be no harm in telling Stan, and Stan could be trusted to keep the secret.

One worry erased from his mind, all Kyle had to do now was get through the weekend.

After registration, Sheila again, chatted with the other parents. Kyle supposed she didn't want to appear standoffish and wanted to promote good sportsmanship and he followed her lead. There were a lot more boys competing in this pageant, he noticed; most of them seemed to be around his age and younger. There was a air of excitement among the competitors; a bigger pageant meant more prizes to be won.

Before they went to bed that night, Sheila had Kyle run through all of his routines in the ballroom, which was brimming with people, all of them eager to practise.

“The stage is bigger, so you need to get in some practise on it before tomorrow,” she'd told him.

The next morning was the start of the competition. For the State competition, along with formal wear, interview, talent and Photogenic, Kyle was also competing in the “Anything Goes” category, which was themed or costume wear. Kyle was going to dress as the classic Lon Chaney character the Phantom of the Opera; Sheila had chosen this particular costume because Lon Chaney was born in Colorado and she wanted Kyle's costume to represent that.

Kyle's Phantom costume consisted of a white shirt, a red waistcoat with gold buttons, a black jacket, with matching trousers and shoes, and a long black cape with silver lining. He also had the iconic white half-mask, attached to a stick, rather like a masquerade mask, to make it more obvious who he was meant to be.

Sheila had made a medley of music from the stage musical and had choreographed Kyle's routine.

Kyle's first category was the formal wear competition, and he was already in his suit and his hair was in its usual coif. He was the fifth boy in his group line up and once again, was the only redhead. There were six other boys in his age group.

Kyle still didn't shine on the catwalk when it was his turn to do his beauty routine, mainly because he didn't want to be there. Sheila was standing off to the side, frowning slightly; Kyle wasn't showing his personality or smiling enough, but he was looking at the judges more this time.

“Remember, Kyle,” she told him when he stepped off stage, “show your personality; look like you're actually having fun up there.” Kyle only nodded, knowing that if he told her he wasn't having fun, she wouldn't listen to him.

The next category was the on-stage interview and Kyle remained in his suit as he and Sheila sat in the ballroom, watching the rest of the competition. Well, Sheila was; Kyle had brought his phone to keep him occupied again.

Seemingly, many hours later, Kyle found himself being led backstage again by his mother.

“Remember what I told you,” she knelt down so they were at eye level. “Speak clearly, be confident and smile. And no 'yes-or-no' answers, okay?” Kyle merely nodded and Sheila made her way back into the audience and Kyle was called on stage not long after.

The interview round consisted of Kyle sitting in a chair while the emcee sat next to him and asked him questions.

“Hello, there” the emcee had greeted when Kyle had sat down.

“Hello, Mr. Smith,” Kyle had replied politely, smiling obediently.

“Can you please tell the audience your name and how old you are?” Smith held the microphone to Kyle's face. There were a small pile of cue cards in his lap.

“My name is Kyle Broflovski and I'm seven years old,” he would have felt more comfortable holding the microphone himself, but there was only one and the emcee used it more than Kyle did. This was better than modelling on the stage, Kyle thought; he could focus on the emcee and concentrate on the answers he had been coached to give.

“And, where do you live, Kyle?”

“I live in South Park, Colorado.”

“And what would you say is the best thing about living in South Park?” the emcee asked, reading off of a cue card.

“It's very peaceful and quiet. Everybody knows each other and I think that's really nice.”

“That's nice. What is your favourite subject at school?”

“English, because I like to tell stories,” Sheila had coached Kyle on what answers to give.

“Do you think education is important, Kyle?”

“Yes, because without an education, you won't achieve much, if anything, in life,” Kyle honestly felt that way, and he prided himself on his good grades.

“Okay. Do you like playing games?”

“Yes, I do. I like to play all sorts,” Kyle barely remembered to follow his initial answer.

“Do you prefer playing outside or inside?”

“I like both because they both have their advantages; playing indoors is good when it gets cold,” Kyle giggled, just as instructed.

“Okay, and for our last question, what makes you happy and why?”

“What makes me happy is making other people happy because it's not easy to make people happy and when I do, I'm quite proud because I like knowing that I made their day a little brighter,” Kyle recited from memory, hearing a few “aw's” from the audience.

“That's nice,” repeated Mr. Smith. “Okay, thank you, Kyle.” Kyle hopped down from his chair as the audience applauded. Sheila was waiting for him off stage.

“That was good,” she praised, walking towards the back of the ballroom with Kyle following. “But you could have made your answers a bit more in-depth.”

“I just said what you told me to,” Kyle said, as they took their seats.

“Yes, I know; you still could improvised a little bit, though.” Again, Kyle said nothing, and continued playing one of his phone games. His age group had finished for the day, and would compete in the Anything Goes and talent portions of the competition the following day.

When the pageant had finished several hours later, Sheila and Kyle remained in the ballroom. Sheila was again talking with the other parents, while Kyle busied himself with his game, trying to forget where he was.

* * *

The next morning, Sheila and Kyle were preparing for the second and last day of the pageant, and Kyle was getting into his Phantom of the Opera costume for the “Anything Goes” category, the first category of the day, followed by the talent portion.

They arrived at the ballroom in time to the the three-to-four year olds' girls' competition under way. There were several Shirley Temples, a few Disney Princesses and at least one Marilyn Monroe. Kyle, again, was playing on his phone, not wanting any part of it.

However, it was soon his turn to line up on stage with the rest of his age group, and then waited backstage for his turn. The other boys' in his group were dressed as Elvis, Rocky, Superman, a pirate, a 1920's mobster, complete with Tommy gun and cigar, and a sailor.

Kyle felt somewhat out of place with his long cape and mask, but before he knew it, he was being called onto the stage.

“Our next contestant in your seven-to-nine year old boys is... Kyle Broflovski!” announced Mr. Smith as Kyle walked over to his first X as his backing music began; one note being pressed repeatedly on a piano. Kyle held his mask up to his face while he held onto his cape, then placed his left arm over his face, so he was almost completely hidden.

When the song's infamous introduction blared out, Kyle threw his left arm out, making his cape fly behind him, and walked over to the second X. Sheila had tried intensely to get Kyle to walk to the beat of the song, but her son's lack of rhythm made it a problem and she eventually gave up.

Turning to face the audience, Kyle lowered the mask, revealing the right side of his face and grinning. Grabbing his cape again, he turned on the spot, causing it to billow out, bringing the mask up to his face again, and began to walk down the runway.

Gesturing to the judges at crucial parts of the song – especially the female ones – Kyle used his mask to play hide-and-seek. Sheila had told him to pretend that one of the judges was Christine, but Kyle had no idea who Christine was. She had tried to show him the film, but Kyle, not a fan of musicals, quickly lost interest.

Walking back up the catwalk, Kyle paused on his second X and turned around to face the audience; he smiled and reached his left hand out in a gesture of longing. Drawing it back in, Kyle placed his mask back over his face and made his way over to his fourth X. He turned again, making his cape swish, and folded his arms, resting his hands on his shoulders like the classic silent movie character.

Then, just before the song was about to end, Kyle grabbed his cape and threw his arms up in the air, slightly out of synch with the final note of the song, and then pointed his mask towards the ceiling, as if he were going to bring down the chandelier.

“And that was Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle!” said Mr. Smith as Kyle walked off stage to the sound of applause.

“That was alright,” said Sheila as Kyle walked over to her. He waited for the inevitable 'but.' “But you needed to show some more personality and get into the character; the Phantom is a tortured soul.” Kyle remained silent as they made their way back to their seats.

A few hours later, Kyle was back on stage, competing in the talent portion of the pageant. This was the only segment which he actually put effort into, for he enjoyed basketball and was always up for playing the sport. He finished his routine, sweating and panting slightly, and walked off stage. “You did good,” said Sheila, smiling at him. “How come you do really good here, but you don't in the other categories?”

“I like basketball better,” Kyle was careful to add the 'better' on the end of his sentence.

The crowning ceremony took place later that evening; all the contestants were in their best clothes and were waiting anxiously for the emcee to start.

Being a State pageant, there were more prizes to award, even for the boys' and Kyle sighed quietly, knowing that the process would take even longer than usual, but, soon enough, Kyle found himself back on stage lining up with the rest of his age group.

The Optional Titles were announced: James won the Personality title, Robert won Model, Simon won Most Handsome, Steven won Photogenic, to Sheila's dismay; she was sure that her son would win that title. Kyle won Talent and was presented with a trophy.

“We will now announce our Prince for the seven-to-nine year old boys'. Your 2018 Prince is.. Kyle Broflovski!” Slightly shocked, Kyle stepped forward and a sash was placed over his shoulder and a golden crown with decorated with red, sparkling jewels was placed on his head. Barely remembering to smile for the cameras, Kyle stepped back into line. “Your Division King is.. James Reed!” James, a tall blonde with brown eyes, stepped forward and was awarded a sash and a bigger crown.

Cameron won the Mini Grand Mister title; judging by the size of the crown, the prizes were being awarded from from lowest to highest, Kyle realised.

Joseph won the Grand Mister title, and received a large, fancy silver crown, sash and trophy.

“Your Grand Mister for your 0 – 6 boys' is Joseph Grant! Great job, Joseph. Give it up for your seven-to-nine boys', ladies and gentlemen!” encouraged Mr. Smith as Kyle and the rest of the boys' left the stage.

Kyle walked over to his mother, removing his sash and crown.

They stayed to watch the rest of the crowning ceremony and Sheila's eyes lit up when the emcee announced the highest title in the entire pageant – The Ultimate Grand Supreme. Winning that meant that you were the best of the best, and a teenage girl won the enormous, glittering crown, along with a customised sash and trophy.

“Did you see the size of that Ultimate Grand Supreme crown?” she gushed in the car as she and Kyle drove home. “Amazing, just amazing. Her parents must be so proud.”

It suddenly clicked for Kyle; that was the prize she wanted him to win. The whole reason she began entering him in pageants was to prove that he was good-looking, and Kyle knew, that in her mind, that if he won the Ultimate Grand Supreme, then she would be proven right.

Truthfully, Kyle didn't believe he would ever win that; he would have to be a pageant veteran with years of experience, and that was never going to happen.

* * *

Much to Kyle's dismay, he was soon entered in another pageant, and was once again too busy practising to spend time with his friends, despite his protests.

Sheila had been so pleased with Kyle's prizes that she wanted him to win more. She was hooked; she loved the fact that her son was considered good-looking by complete strangers and Kyle's plaques and trophies were confirmation of what she knew to be true.

Certainly, the judges seemed to agree; Kyle's Photogenic awards were proof of that. She was still amazed that they had only used ordinary photographs, they hadn't any professional material, and Kyle had still won, beating out others with years of experience. It only confirmed what Sheila knew to be true; that her son was indeed very good looking.

Sometimes, Sheila caught herself gazing at the photos of Kyle that she had submitted for the competition, something she had never done before, but looking at them, she could clearly see why Kyle had won; his large eyes were a striking shade of green, almost cat-like in their colour, framed with dark eyelashes, which contrasted wonderfully with his soft, red curls; his porcelain skin was smooth and pale, with not a blemish or imperfection in sight. Sheila felt blessed to have such a perfect son. Even after everything he had gone through, Sheila could always say he was perfect.

After the Apple incident, Kyle was in hospital after having been separated from the centiPad, and his parents had had a talk with him, explaining that everyone looked different, and that sometimes looking different could be a good thing. They were, of course, trying to cheer their son up after the removal had left him with Chelsea grin style scars on his face.

Their efforts proved futile, however, as Kyle was constantly awakened by horrific nightmares, and they realised that as long as the boy was reminded of his ordeal, he was never going to get over it, and so they booked him in for plastic surgery.

The surgeon had done a fantastic job; even Kyle sometimes had trouble believing that he had once had “Joker scars;” he couldn't see them at all; his skin was as smooth as it had been before. He no longer used Apple products, though.

* * *

Sheila continued to enter her son in local Colorado pageants whenever one came up, which was usually every other weekend. Kyle had won another “Prince” title at a little pageant held in a shopping centre in Colorado Springs, along with “Most Photogenic;” he had also won “Most Handsome” in his division in another local pageant in Boulder, as well as another Photogenic title.

He had won so many prizes that Gerald had had to put up another shelf in the living-room. He still wasn't happy about his wife's new hobby and he actively refused to watch Kyle compete; he thought it was wrong to dress up children and parade them around on stage to be judged on their looks, but no matter how many times he said this to Sheila, she didn't listen to him, believing the pageants to be beneficial to Kyle.

“They're giving him confidence,” she argued. “They help raise self-esteem!”

Now that Kyle had been doing quite well in small pageants, Sheila had decided that it was time for them to try their luck in the big leagues and began to research National pageants. She became his coach, and choreographed all of his routines.

Kyle was going to be competing in the Colorado Grand Royalty Pageant the following month. Sheila hoped that this would be his last local one, because she wanted to get Kyle started in the National pageant circuit.

A few weeks later, Sheila and Kyle were on their way to Pueblo, to compete in the Colorado Grand Royalty Pageant.

Kyle was going to be competing in the formal wear, casual wear, talent, interview, photogenic and outfit of choice categories; Sheila had entered him in every single category; the more categories a contestant entered, the higher the scores, and therefore, a higher chance of winning a top prize.

Kyle had a new costume for the fairy tale themed Outfit of Choice category; a Peter Pan one which consisted of a green tunic, trousers in a darker shade of green, brown boots, and the green hat with the red feather.

It was a Friday morning, and Sheila had kept Kyle off school so that they could travel down to Pueblo; ordinarily, she wouldn't do this; she had always instilled the value of education in her son, but they needed to be there a day early because a pageant preparation class was included in the entry fee, which she was not about to pass up.

They arrived at the remote hotel in Florence at 10:00am. Getting out of the car, Kyle could see a lot of motor homes in the car park with fir trees in the background. The hotel itself was a rather modern building in contrast to its rural surroundings; there were large, floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall of the hotel, with track lighting under the awning above the revolving doors.

Entering, Kyle looked around while Sheila registered him. They were in a bare, oversized foyer, with tiled flooring, a few chairs gathered around round tables that were decorated with magazines, a few potted plants here and there, and the reception desk took up most of the back wall. A carpeted staircase was pressed against one wall, with a lift next to it, and a few doorways led off to different parts of the hotel.

Their hotel room wasn't much different than their previous ones, but the masses of pine trees made for a very nice backdrop.

“Well, come on, bubbe; let's get going,” said Sheila after she had hung up Kyle's pageant clothes.

“Where? I thought the pageant wasn't until tomorrow.”

“It is; there's a preparation class we get to attend, and one on one consultation!”

“No, thanks,” Kyle turned back to the window.

“What?”

“I don't really want to.”

“Kyle, this class can help you; don't you want to be better at this? Look at all the prizes you've won; think how many more you could win!”

“But I don't want to win any more.”

“Kyle, I do so much for you, and yet you can't be bothered to do this one little thing for me!” Kyle hung his head; he hated it when she said things like that. “Let's go,” she repeated, walking toward the door.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Sheila and Kyle waited for their turn to go into the meeting room that had been hired for the training; the consultants were teaching them in groups of ten, and Kyle was in the next group.

His job was rather simple; all he had to do was line up with the rest of the group against the back wall, and then each child had to model on the imaginary catwalk one-by-one.

The consultant, a slim, young-looking man in his early thirties' by name of Jimmy Booth then spoke to each child and parent individually, taking them into the adjoined room.

“Hello, Kyle,” he smiled as Kyle and Sheila stepped into the room for their consultation. “And Mrs. Broflovski, such a pleasure, please take a seat.”

“Thank you, Mr. Booth.”

“Please, call me Jimmy. Now, if I can, I'd just like to start by asking you a few questions.”

“Sure.”

“Great. How old are you, Kyle?” he directed this question at the boy himself.

“I'm seven, almost eight.”

“And how long have you been competing in pageants?”

“Uh... two months?” Kyle had lost count.

“How many have you competed in?”

“Only six; one was a State pageant. This will be our seventh,” Sheila cut in.

“I see. So you're still a newcomer?” he confirmed and Kyle nodded. “Okay, Kyle, I'd just like to have a little chat with your mother, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside?”

“Okay,” Kyle hopped down from the chair and left the room.

“So, what do you think?” Sheila leaned forward eagerly.

“He's definitely got potential,” he said and Sheila grinned widely. “With some hard work, he could be quite successful.”

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Sheila beamed. “I really want to get him started in the National circuit. What do we need to do?”

“I would hire a photographer and get some head shots done. If you want Kyle to get started on the National pageant scene, he's going to need a portfolio.” He handed her a business card, “here's the information of a local photographer; great with kids.

“Don't put all your hopes on winning big first time, though; you need to really invest and put lots of effort in. Also, you need to get started right away.”

“Why?”

“Because a lot of pageants only go up to age twelve for boys.”

“You mean I've only got five years?” Sheila looked slightly crestfallen.

“After that, the only other male pageants are 'Mr. World,' 'Mr. International,' things like that. Mrs. Broflovski, what do you and Kyle hope to get from pageants? I mean, what is your ultimate goal?”

“I want him to win the Ultimate Grand Supreme,” Sheila's eyes glassed over and she pictured the glittering crown in her mind.

“Ambitious,” Jimmy nodded appreciatively. “No boy has ever won that title. You think Kyle can?”

“Definitely,” Sheila nodded. “I'll be hiring the photographer later. What else do we need to do?”

“Well, for starters, do you have any photos of him competing?” he asked and Sheila handed him her phone. “Yes,” he muttered as he swiped through the pictures. “His wardrobe will need to be updated. I wouldn't put too much green on him; it will draw attention away from his eyes, just little bits of green here and there to bring out his eyes, little dashes.

“No red clothing, his hair is red, we don't need much more. Just little splashes, like with the green; it can't overpower his hair or his eyes. Your best bet would be to hire a coach.”

“A coach?”

“Yes; they will teach him how to walk, pose, smile, how to make eye contact with the judges, teach him routines, and they'll help with wardrobe, too.”

“Right.”

“Like I said, he's got potential; he could have a great career ahead of him. He's already got the looks -” Sheila beamed once again, “- and all he needs is a little confidence, stage presence and the right clothes.”

Sheila thanked him and left the room.

* * *

During the course of the weekend, Kyle competed in the Colorado Grand Royalty Pageant and ended up being crowned Prince of his division. He was presented with a silver crown with sapphire jewels, a black and silver sash, and a small silver trophy with stars fashioned on the top. He also won Photogenic and was presented with another sash and trophy.

In the car on the way home, Sheila told Kyle of the plan to make him a pageant star.

“We're going to hire a modelling coach for you, get you some new outfits and some head shots taken,” she gushed while Kyle remained silent in the back seat.

When they arrived home, Sheila relayed her ideas to Gerald and Kyle sat at the top of the stairs, listening to them argue.

“No, Sheila! I don't want you putting Kyle in any more pageants!” the lawyer snapped.

“He's not just your son!” Sheila bit back, “he's mine as well! It's not just your decision.”

“Sheila, these types of contests are terrible! Judging children on how they look; how can you be a part of that?!”

“These contests are giving Kyle confidence and self-esteem!” the mother shot back. Gerald couldn't deny that his eldest son had little-to-no self esteem, but from what he could tell, none of these contests that Kyle had entered had done anything to improve his confidence.

“Look, why don't we just ask Kyle what he wants?” he suggested evenly, and to his surprise, Sheila agreed.

“Alright. Kyle! Bubbe, come down here!” she called and Kyle slowly made his way into the living room. “Your father thinks that these competitions aren't good for you,” she began. “So, we decided to ask you...”

“If you wanna continue doing pageants,” said Gerald. “It's completely up to you; if you don't want to do them any more, then you can stop, no questions asked.”

Kyle stared up at his parents and thought. If he had been asked this question a couple of weeks ago, he would have asked to stop on the spot. Now it was different. He still didn't enjoy pageants, he still hated every aspect of them, in fact, but if he stopped competing, then that meant that his mother would stop spending time with him. She hardly ever spent time with him; usually most of his hobbies that he tried to get her interested in were 'dangerous' and 'immature toilet humour,' which of course lead to her frequent protests. She was so busy trying to make the world a better place for him that she didn't realise that her son might want to be kissed goodnight when she dragged herself home after spending the entire day rallying. It didn't occur to Sheila that what Kyle really needed was a mother who was there for him; she protested so frequently that he hardly saw her.

She had calmed down after the war and had began to staying home more, to Kyle's delight. But she gradually began slipping back into her old ways and soon the picket signs were back out once again.

“Kyle?” his mother's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. “Have you made up your mind?”

“I – I think I wanna continue competing, Ma,” he said quietly. “Just for a little while,” he added as an afterthought. He'd decided that being with his mother was worth competing in beauty pageants. The positives outweighed the negatives in his mind.

Gerald looked shocked while Sheila hugged Kyle tightly, and he grinned and hugged her back


	4. Chapter 4

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 4

To Kyle's surprise, Sheila hadn't made any mention of pageants since he admitted to wanting to carry on, so he had a much appreciated break from practising. It was nice to have his eighth birthday celebrations uninterrupted, as well.

Not for long, however, when Sheila announced a few weeks later that both she and Kyle were going to go to the tailor's that afternoon. She was planning on entering him in a National pageant in September and had already bought the required outfits; now they needed to be altered.

A few hours later, Kyle found himself at the tailor's, wearing a brand new white tuxedo while the tailor measured the suit.

“Just a few inches on the sleeves and legs; they're just a bit too long,” the tailor, a middle-aged, balding man, was saying.

Once the little suit had been altered, Kyle had to change into his new Sportswear costume, which consisted of white trousers, a black leather jacket lined with red with Formula One logos dotted on it and a matching cap, along with a black and white chequered flag.

His Runway Model outfit would be a blue plaid, short-sleeved shirt with blue jeans and white trainers, which Kyle would also wear in his upcoming photo shoot.

His Wow Wear outfit consisted of white trousers lined lined with red sequins, a white, long sleeved shirt, a waistcoat decorated with sequins to look like the Stars and Stripes flag, and a blue sparkly tailcoat.

Sheila still had the photographer's card that she had been given, but before she could do anything, she had to hire a pageant coach. She had been asking around during Colorado Grand Royalty and had found Tony Dalton, a pageant coach “with a difference,” as his flyer read.

She and Kyle were heading out to Denver, where he lived, for a consultation.

When they arrived, Tony, a young, rather dapper-looking man, greeted them enthusiastically and welcomed them into his lovely home, which was decorated in a rustic style, and photos of the pageant contestants he had coached displayed around the living room.

“Your flyer said that you're a pageant coach with a difference,” Sheila produced said flyer after introductions had been given. “What makes you different from other coaches?”

“Well, for starters, I never take on too many clients; that way I can give them the proper attention,” Tony smiled down at Kyle, who was wondering what he'd gotten himself into. “I also teach them different routines for their categories – I choreograph them myself – and I give mock interviews with critique, I help to develop stage presence, their personality, their confidence, and I do hair and make up and wardrobe.” Sheila was impressed, to say the least.

“How much do you charge per session?”

“$40 per hour.” Kyle glanced up at his mother, sure that she would refuse, or at least try to barter; it was rather expensive, at least it was to him. He couldn't quite believe it when Sheila pulled the required money out of her purse and suggested they start their first lesson now. “Great!” smiled Tony, standing up and gesturing for Kyle to do the same.

“Go on,” Sheila encouraged, when Kyle hesitated, and the boy joined the man in the middle of his living-room.

“Okay, why don't we start with your beauty routine?” he asked and Kyle hesitated, not knowing what to say. Tony seemed to be expecting an answer, so he eventually nodded. “Great. Now,” he made his way over to the far side of the living room, “when they call our name and we come out, we've gotta put on our biggest smile and let those judges know that you wanna win – you gotta make them notice you,” he looked down at Kyle and at Sheila. “Tough being a pageant boy,” he admitted, “it can be a thankless job.”

“Well, Kyle will stand out,” said Sheila determinedly. “I know he can do it.” Tony grinned again and turned his attention back to Kyle.

“Okay, let's do it; I'm gonna announce you and I want you to come out with the biggest smile you ever had, okay? Right, presenting contestant number one, this is Kyle Broflovski!” Kyle stepped into the room, a wide grin plastered on his face, and Tony stopped him. “Alright, we'll try that again, now remember to give a nice _natural_ smile, okay? We don't want you baring your teeth at the judges.” Tony growled, and Kyle grinned in spite of himself. He liked Tony; the man was exuberant, full of energy and always smiling. Kyle felt like he was the kind of person who could never get angry.

So, he tried again, this time smiling more naturally, eliciting grins from both Tony and his mother. “That's it! Much better. That's it, just carry on; we're gonna smooth everything out.”

By the end of the lesson, Kyle's routine had improved significantly; his turns were smoother, his smile was more natural, and his poses had gotten more polished. It still wasn't perfect, but there was definite improvement.

“Right, so I'll see you next week?” said Tony as Kyle walked back over to Sheila.

“Oh, definitely,” Sheila nodded.

“See you later, Kyle,” Tony clapped the boy on the shoulder and Kyle only smiled in reply. “Don't forget to practise every day, okay?” he spoke to both the Broflovskis' and Sheila assured him that they would.

* * *

In between seeing Tony once a week, practising his routines every day at home, and weekly one-on-one basketball lessons to help improve his talent routine, as well as keeping on top of his schoolwork, a rather tired Kyle had little time to spend with his friends. The moment he arrived home, Sheila had him practise the new routines that Tony was teaching him; Wednesday afternoons he had hour-long private basketball lessons, although Kyle couldn't really complain about that, as he loved the sport and he was learning all sorts of new tricks, the boy also saw Tony for pageant coaching every Saturday, so all in all, he was a busy little boy.

During the week, Sheila told him that he was going to do a photo shoot that Saturday, for his pageant portfolio.

“Is this before or after my lessons?” Kyle asked.

“Before; it'll be easier that way.” Kyle nodded, wondering whether he should ask his mum if he could go and see his friends. Practise for the day was over, so he didn't see why not.

“Hey, Mom? Can I go over to Stan's house, please?” he asked. “I've already practised; I'm done, so can I?”

“I don't know,” Sheila hesitated. “Today wasn't your best.”

“Please, Ma? I haven't seen my friends for ages!”

“Oh, alright,” she relented and Kyle grinned with delight, practically running over to the front door. “Just be home before dinner!” She called after his retreating form.

“I will, Ma!” he called over his shoulder before heading off down the street.

Before he knew it, he was at the Marsh residence, and he knocked on the door, hoping Stan was in. His mother, Sharon, answered the door and smiled down at him.

“Hello, Mrs. Marsh, is Stan in?” Kyle smiled back up at her; he liked her; she was nice.

“Of course; he's upstairs in his room. We haven't seen you for a while,” she observed as the boy stepped inside the familiar house.

“Oh, we've been busy,” he said casually. “Thanks, Mrs. Marsh,” he said, mounting the stairs to his best friend's room.

Knocking on the door, he opened it to find Stan trying to train his dog, Sparky, to play dead; he didn't appear to be succeeding as the dog only tilted his head in confusion. Stan looked up to see who had entered his room and his face split into a huge grin when he saw who it was.

“Kyle!” Stan leapt up from the floor and practically jumped on the redhead. “Haven't seen you for ages! Where you been, dude?”

“Oh, just busy,” Kyle hesitated before answering and the two boys' made their way over to Stan's bed, making themselves comfortable upon it.

“Tell me about it! I keep trying to call, but your mom always says you're busy, and you go out almost every weekend. What you been up to?”

“... No, you don't wanna hear it,” Kyle found that it was extremely difficult to admit to doing pageants, much more so that he originally thought.

“Sure, I do! How come you keep driving out of South Park?” Kyle looked at his Super Best Friend.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah, dude. You're not moving house, are you?” Stan's eyes widened at the thought. “Is that what you've been doing? Going to look at houses?”

“No,” Kyle couldn't help but laugh.

“Then what?” Kyle sighed.

“Alright, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh, okay? Promise you won't laugh.”

“Sure, dude,” Stan nodded, wondering what the other boy had to tell him.

“My mom's been... putting me into... pageants,” Kyle looked down at his lap while he spoke, but a stifled snigger made him look up. “Hey!” he punched Stan in the arm, annoyed, “you promised you wouldn't laugh!”

“S-sorry. I'm sorry,” Stan fought to keep a straight face. “So, pageants as in beauty pageants?” he started grinning again, only to stop when Kyle glared at him. “They – uh – they do those for boys?” Stan bit the inside of his cheeks, hard.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Kyle bitterly, looking down at his lap once more.

“Is – is it just like the ones we've seen? Like on TV?” Now that the initial shock had worn off, Stan found that he was full of questions.

“Yes.”

“So, so you just gotta stand there and smile?” Kyle finally looked up.

“No,” he began. “I have to model on a runway, I have to strike poses, smile and make eye contact at the judges; I have to do different routines for the different categories; I have to do several costume changes; I have to stand and walk and turn just right or else I'll lose points and then I won't win and then my mom'll be upset; I have to answer in depth interview questions; I have to work with a coach who teaches me how to walk and stand and smile and I have to have private basketball lessons to make my talent routine interesting and I have to pose for endless photos!” Kyle's eyes were blazing; it was obvious he had been keeping everything in for a while. Kyle often vented at Stan, but the latter didn't mind; if _he_ lived with Kyle's strict mother, he'd need to vent as well.

“Dude...” was all he found he could say.

“But I don't wanna do it,” Kyle admitted. “My mom wants me to; it's all her idea.”

“So, tell her you wanna stop,” Kyle stared at him.

“It's not that simple.”

“What do you mean? All you gotta do is walk up to her and say, 'Mom, I don't wanna do this any more'.”

“I've done that, but she doesn't listen.”

“Well, make her listen.”

“I don't know how, though. You know what my mom's like; once she gets something in her head, she can't be talked out of it.”

“Yeah,” Stan nodded in agreement. “So, uh, have you got any more.. pageants coming up?”

“Yeah,” Kyle pulled another face. “In September, so I have to practise a lot.”

“Why? It's only the beginning of June!”

“She wants me to win a National.”

“A what?” Stan looked confused and Kyle cringed inwardly at himself knowing the pageant lingo.

“A national pageant is a big one with lots of contestants; she wants me to win something, so that's why I have to practise every day.”

All too soon, Kyle had to leave, and said that he would try to spend time with Stan as often as he could, which was difficult as the boy was kept busy with practise.

Before he left Stan's room, he turned back to face his friend. “Listen, do me a favour, and don't tell anyone. Especially Cartman,” he said, and Stan looked at him in surprise.

“Dude, would I?” he asked, and Kyle immediately felt guilty. He knew Stan wouldn't do that.

* * *

It was Saturday morning, and Sheila and Kyle were off to the photographer for Kyle's photo shoot. Once again, Gerald was displeased at his wife and son's new activity, but as Kyle had asked to continue with pageants, he felt he had no say in the matter.

The Broflovskis' arrived in good time at the studio, and made their way inside. After introducing themselves to the photographer, a woman in her late twenties' by name of Laura, Kyle changed into his white tux for the formal photographs.

As he sat in the chair, waiting for Laura to finish setting up, Sheila approached him, pulling something out of her bag.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Don't worry; it's just a bit of makeup."

Kyle's jaw dropped.

"I don't want to wear makeup," he said.

"Kyle, these lights are going to wash you out; you need some. Just some powder so you don't end up looking shiny, and a bit of eye liner to make your eyes pop."

"Can't they edit that in afterwards?" Kyle was getting desperate. "I don't want to wear makeup."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to," was Sheila's answer. "It'll do you good to get used to wearing it; you're going to need it in the Nationals." Sheila was unscrewing the lid of what looked like a pen.

"What's that?" Kyle asked, staring at it.

"Liquid eyeliner. I got brown because it looks more natural; now keep still," she moved up to Kyle's eye, but he ducked away out of instinct. "Don't move! If this gets in your eye, it's gonna hurt, okay?” Sheila brought the pen back up to his eye and Kyle naturally cringed away again. Growling frustratedly, Sheila grabbed his chin sharply, and held him still while she applied the eyeliner across his upper lash line. "Don't look up until it dries, or it'll smudge," Sheila warned, taking a compact and a brush out of her bag.

She began to powder Kyle's face, the boy firmly keeping his eyes on the ground, and by the time she was done, Tony had arrived to help out with the arduous task of taming Kyle's hair.

Kyle didn't dare look in the mirror as he made his way over to the chair that was placed in front of a neutral cream background in the centre of the room.

Kyle sat in the chair, large mirrors placed either side of and beneath him, bright lights shining down upon him, as his mother chatted with the photographer.

“I really want the head shots to show his facial beauty, really bring it out,” she was saying. “But I also want them to show his personality, show a bit of his playful side.”

"Alright; we'll start with the more formal looking ones first, to get them out of the way, and then we'll move on from there." Laura stepped behind her camera and the photo shoot began.

First, she shot close-ups of Kyle; of him looking straight at the camera, slightly to the right, then to the left, in a very serious manner. "Okay, Kyle, I want you to look to your right just a little bit, and then look up," Kyle did so and she snapped the picture. "Great! Now let's have some smiling ones."

So Kyle did what he was told to do; he smiled demurely, he smiled charmingly, he grinned, all the while posing his head the way he was told to.

Then Sheila produced one of his crowns and he was photographed wearing that.

Tony and Sheila were stood behind Laura, and whenever they felt that Kyle was growing bored or tired they would mug for him to try and make him laugh, which eventually started to work; Laura managed to capture a wonderful shot of Kyle laughing, his smile was wide, his eyes were closed and his head was slightly tilted.

After an hour in the studio, the four packed up and went on location. Kyle had changed into his blue plaid shirt and his blue jeans, his hair had been brushed back out into his natural curls, and they were ready to go.

They arrived at a remote, peaceful wooded area and Kyle was instantly put into action, being sat at the base a tree.

"Put one knee up, the one closest to me" instructed Laura, "rest your elbow on it, and tilt your head, tilt it facing away from me. That's it."

A large pile of leaves were gathered and Kyle sat in the centre for a few poses, while Sheila and Tony stood above him out of sight, scattering leaves around him, before lying down on his stomach and resting his chin in his hands.

The rest of the hour was spent with Kyle posing all around the little wooded area; in the grass, standing next to the trees and even a few shots of him sitting in the branches.

In the car on the way to Tony's, Sheila handed Kyle her makeup wipes and the boy vigorously scrubbed his face clean.

"You did god today, bubbe," Sheila praised from the front seat. "These photos are going to look amazing."

After his lesson with Tony, Kyle felt exhausted and resisted the urge to sleep in the car as they drove back home. They had been working on holding his smile without it looking fake, making eye contact, as well as standing correctly; back straight, shoulders back and head up, one foot placed slightly in front of the other, and Kyle had found it rather hard.

When they arrived home, Kyle sat at the top of the stairs once again, listening to them talk.

"Gerald, you must come to the pageant in September," Sheila was saying, "Kyle's worked so hard."

"Absolutely not," insisted his father. "If you and Kyle want to do this, that's fine, but I refuse to take part in something like that!"

"But, Gerald, this will be Kyle's first National pageant. You have to come and watch him."

"No, Sheila!"

"I can't believe you're not going to support your child!"

" _I_ can't believe what you're doing to our child!" Gerald snapped back at his wife. "These types of contests are disgusting and wrong!"

"There is nothing wrong with these contests; they're giving Kyle what he needs most; self-esteem and confidence! You've seen him, Gerald; he won't even look up when a stranger talks to him; he can't take compliments -"

"There are other ways to develop his self esteem. Like those basketball lessons. He enjoys those."

"We are continuing with the pageants, Gerald," said Sheila firmly. "Come and cheer him on."

"... Fine. Just this once, and that's it!" said Gerald just as firmly.

* * *

A few weeks later, the Broflovski family, along with Tony, were boarding a plane, headed for New York where the pageant was being held. Kyle was actually looking forward to seeing New York and he hoped he would be able to do some sightseeing while he was there. Tony was going along, not only to help Kyle, but also because he had another client, a three-year-old boy, who was also competing.

As Kyle had a window seat, he was able to see the Statue of Liberty as they touched down in New York City, and he caught another glimpse of the famed statue when they left the airport, but they headed straight to the hotel where "The Beauty From Within" national pageant was being held.

"Ma, can we go sightseeing?" Kyle asked as they entered the large hotel foyer.

"Maybe later, if we have time," Sheila walked up to the front desk to sign them in. Gerald was lagging behind, carrying Ike but refusing to carry any of the luggage, and Tony was standing with Sheila

After they had unpacked in their rooms, Tony (who had his own room), Sheila and Kyle went down to the ballroom where the pageant was being held; Gerald was staying in the hotel room. It was the biggest hotel room Kyle had ever seen, as well as the biggest stage, with a black sparkly background and a bulb-lined, "T-shaped" catwalk. "Right, Kyle, you better get up there and run through your beauty walk. You'll need to get used to the bigger stage."

The ballroom was filled with other children waiting their chance to rehearse; Kyle did his routine as soon as he could get on the stage, so that he could get it over with. He had to do it twice, as Sheila wasn't happy with his first attempt.

"Remember to keep the chin up and the shoulders back," she instructed, standing in front of the stage as Kyle walked down it. He was actually trying to put effort into his routines as he knew that his mother would not stop until he won the Ultimate Grand Supreme, and Kyle realised that as soon as he won that prize, the sooner he could quit. But he also knew that as soon as he quit, his mother would stop spending time with him, which he didn't want. He didn't know what to do.

When Sheila was satisfied, they returned to their room, where Sheila began preparing for the following day, hanging Kyle's clothes up and arranging the registration forms and the photographs.

It was already evening, so the four of them headed to bed to get a good night's rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you think Kyle will do in his first National pageant?


	5. Chapter 5

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 5

The next morning, Gerald and Ike slept in while Sheila, Tony and Kyle headed downstairs to get ready in the rooms set aside for the contestants' to prepare in.

Sitting in one of the corners, Kyle, all ready in his new white tux, could not believe what he was seeing; rows upon rows of tables littered with makeup, brushes, Styrofoam heads bearing wigs and hairpieces, rolling racks with elaborate costumes hanging from them, false teeth and eyelashes littering the floor, endless cans of hairspray, crinkled bags of snacks, nail varnish, jewellery, safety pins, hair pins, little hand mirrors, shoe polish and much more that made the room look very cluttered.

Kyle was sat in a chair, while Tony did his makeup, and Sheila watched over them. Tony had already powdered his face, and reached into his bag and pulled out some eyeliner. Moving towards Kyle, the boy once again cringed away out of instinct.

“Kyle, keep still,” Sheila commanded as Tony moved forward again.

“I don't like it,” said Kyle, still trying to avoid the pen.

“I know, but you need it,” said Sheila, reaching in and grabbing his chin once again. “Stop squirming!”

“Look, Kyle, I'm not going to get it in your eye,” said Tony gently. “If that's what you're worried about, then you don't need to be; I've been doing this for years, and I've never poked someone in the eye.” Upon hearing that, Kyle stopped fidgeting and Sheila let go of his face. “Okay, now just look down,” said Tony, and Kyle obeyed, and then Tony swept the pen along Kyle's eyelid. “Great, just keep looking down for a few seconds while it dries,” Tony told him, which Kyle did.

“His make-up's smudged,” Sheila observed. No-one mentioned it was from where she had gripped her son's face, and Tony only took up the brush once again, and began to dust more powder over Kyle's face, taking care to blend it where the smudges were.

“Okay, I've just got to put some lip balm on you, and then we're set.” Hearing the phrase “lip balm,” caused Kyle to balk.

“What do I need that for?”

“To make your lips look soft,” said Sheila.

“I'm not gonna be that the close to the judges, am I?”

“No, but every little helps. You'll thank me for this when you're older.” Kyle seriously doubted that he would, but he remained silent, and allowed Tony to apply the lip balm, as he had no other choice. Thankfully, it wasn't scented.

When he was ready, the three of them made their way to the ballroom, where the pageant was already in swing. Kyle had never seen so many people in one place; this made his other pageants look like a church picnic. Many contestants had brought their entire families, so they had a cheering entourage; mothers were standing behind the judges' table as their child performed, watching intently for any mistakes, gesturing wildly when they spotted one. There were contestants' of every age filling the room, with glittering dresses of every colour, their hair curled, sprayed and teased to perfection. Many of the younger children were having last minute touch ups to their makeup and spray tans while they waited for their turn to impress the judges.

Gerald was sitting at the very back of the room, arms folded and scowling. Ike was next him, looking bored and climbing over the seats. The crowd were cheering and clapping as one little girl performed her beauty routine up on the stage. The other girls in her age group were waiting by the side of the stage, their dresses sparkling under the lights. “This time, you line up after you've performed,” Sheila told him as they hung around near the double doors. “And you just do what you usually do.”

“We line up after?” said Kyle, looking over at the stage.

“Yes, that's right. You know what to do.”

All too soon, it was time for the 7 - 8 boys' beauty wear category. Kyle was the fifth in his group out of seven, and he was watching the preceding contestants. They were very good, he realised, very professional and poised; he didn't think he could stand a chance against them. Then again, he didn't want to win, but he knew his mum wanted him to, so all could Kyle could do was perform to the best of his ability and just wait and see what would happen.

As contestant number four finished his routine, the emcee, a middle aged man by name of Mr. Jones, thanked him, and the audience applauded, Kyle hitched his smile into place.

“And now, please welcome number five, Kyle Broflovski!”

Gerald gasped in horror as his perfectly coiffed son stepped out on the stage to polite applause. His normally unruly hair had been smoothed down and straightened and he was wearing a little white tuxedo with emerald green (to match his eyes) satin lining the lapels and jacket pockets, and a matching emerald green waistcoat, which peeked out from underneath his buttoned up jacket. Tony had suggested the waistcoat to help break up the white. He was also wearing a little white bow tie, and white, shiny shoes.

“Kyle has vivid red hair, and emerald green eyes,” said Jones as Kyle made his way to his first X, spotting the judges, and smiling charmingly at them. He posed and then twirled, before moving onwards to the second one. “His hobbies include playing basketball, reading, and helping to take care of his little brother.”

His smile never faltering, Kyle walked down the runway and turned perfectly on the spot at the end, tilting his head. Before making his way back up the catwalk, Kyle blew a kiss to the judges and smiled adoringly. Back on the second X, Kyle turned around once again, before walking over to the fourth X, keeping his face turned to the audience, and his eyes on the judges. On his fourth X, just before he left, Kyle saluted, pointed at the judges, and turned to his left, placing his hands on his hips, and looking over his shoulder at the judges, smiling. “With an ambition to play professional basketball, this is contestant number five, Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle!”

Gerald scowled again as Kyle left the stage to more applause and made his way over to Sheila and Tony, who were waiting for him just off to the side.

“You did good,” Sheila told him, as they walked over to where Gerald was sat. Kyle waited for the inevitable 'but,' only it didn't come, and he was confused.

“I did good?” he repeated, sitting down next to her. “Just good?”

“Considering this is your first National pageant, I think you held your own up there,” she said, causing Kyle to grin in genuine delight. “With some more hard work, imagine how much better you can become.” The smile dropped from Kyle's face. He had put his all into his routine, and he wasn't sure what he could have done to make it better. “It wasn't bad, bubbe, just I know you can do better,” Sheila must have noticed the look on his face.

Kyle didn't have much time to dwell on this, for the last contestant in his group had finished, and now they were due to line up on stage. After making sure that he was in numerical order, Kyle and the rest of the boys climbed back on stage and lined up along the back, smiling out at the judges. He stood up straight, the way he had been taught; chin up, shoulders back, hands placed by his sides, (or behind his back, if he wished), one foot placed slightly in front of the other, and, of course, a smile on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting your 7 – 8 boys',” announced Mr. Jones, and the crowd whooped and clapped. Sheila was standing and observing Kyle; apart from being the shortest, he looked as though he belonged up there with the other boys.

“His tux looks good; it stands out,” she said to Tony, who nodded and smiled. Kyle was the only one wearing a white tuxedo, and even from the back, the emerald satin was visible, drawing attention to his eyes. Again, he was the only redhead in his group, which helped him to stand out even more. “Contestants, please make sure you are in numerical order, numerical order.” The emcee paused for a moment to allow the boys to correct themselves. “And now, contestants, please turn around now, and face the back of the stage.” Okay, that was weird, Kyle thought, turning along with the others, and allowing the smile to drop from his face. No other pageant had done this before. Maybe it was because it was a National. “Contestants,” continued Mr. Jones after a moment, “if you would give us your best smiles, turn around and face the judges. Once again, here are our 7 – 8 boys', please send them off with a nice round of applause, thank you!”

The crowd clapped and Kyle followed his group off stage and headed back to his mother.

The next round of competition was the interview, and as Kyle didn't need to change his outfit, he remained in the ballroom with his parents, and continued to watch the rest of the pageant. Tony was with his other client; Kyle had only caught a glimpse of him in the dressing room; a little blonde-haired, blue eyed child, who was full of energy, but Kyle hadn't seen him compete yet.

Kyle watched as the 9 – 10 girls battled it out for the beauty round, disinterested. Because he was staring up at the stage, looking bored, he didn't notice the parents of the other contestants turning around and looking at him. As Kyle was new to the National circuit, nobody knew who he was, and so everyone was sizing him up. It was soon decided, silently, unanimously, that although he was good looking, he was no threat.

Kyle was growing extremely bored with watching, but he had left his phone, and books upstairs in the hotel room, and he doubted Sheila would let him leave to go and get them. He was just about to ask his father, when Sheila turned to him.

“You'll be going up for the interview soon,” she told him in a low voice, so as not to disrupt anybody. “You remember what you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Kyle knew his interview questions and answers off by heart; Sheila had been researching the typical and not-so-typical pageant interview questions and had given Kyle answers for almost all of them. He was just going over them in his head, when the interview category for his age group was due to start, and so he lined up with the rest of his group. Just as before, they went on one by one, and the emcee asked them just a few questions.

When he was on stage, Kyle focused on sitting up straight while the emcee picked an array of questions for him. This time, the emcee was sat on a chair next to him.

“Hello, there,” Mr. Jones smiled, and Kyle smiled back politely. “Can you please tell me your name, and how old you are?”

“My name is Kyle Broflovski, and I'm eight years old.”

“Hello, Kyle. What is your best friends name? Why do you like him or her?”

“My best friend's name is Stan, and I like him because he's a good friend; he's kind, always there for me and is fun to be around.” Kyle didn't need to be coached for a question like that; he and Stan were super best friends.

“What is more important - beauty, wisdom, or wealth? Why?”

“Wisdom, because beauty and wealth will fade, but you can always learn new things.” Hearing Kyle's answers lifted Sheila's hopes; her son's eloquence would probably receive high scores,

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a basketball player, because I love playing basketball, and.. it's a really fun sport to play,” Kyle forgot the rest of the answer, and had made something up, pausing only momentarily. He had supposed to say “it's a good hobby because it keeps you active and healthy.”

“Thank you so much, Kyle. Let's give him a big of applause,” said the emcee, and Kyle hopped down from his chair and left the stage where Sheila was waiting for him.

“You forgot the answer,” was all she said, taking his hand and leading him out of the ballroom.

“Only part of it,” said Kyle, trying to match her pace.

“You still forgot! How could you forget?” she barked. “You need to really start focusing, bubbe.”

They had arrived at their hotel room, where Kyle began to change into his talent wear. He had a new outfit, which consisted of a white vest top and shorts, with orange and emerald green piping down the sides of the shorts. His name was emblazoned on the chest in matching green sequins and he had new white trainers decorated with more green sequins. He also had white sweat bands for his head and wrists with green piping. He actually liked the new outfit; it was a nice change from his boring school issued uniform. Kyle grabbed his basketball and headed back down to the ballroom with Sheila.

Tony was waiting for them; his other client was done for the day, but he stayed to give Kyle support.

“Hey, Kyle” he greeted happily upon seeing the boy. “Ready to kick it?”

“Yeah,” said Kyle, smiling back. The 7 – 8 girls talent category was already in full swing; most of the little girls sang or danced, but there was one who played a slightly out of tune rendition of “God Bless America,” on the violin, and another who did magic tricks.

So far, out of all the pageants he had done, Kyle had never seen another basketball player. He lined up with his group, actually looking forward to the event; he'd been working hard with his coach, and had learnt some new tricks. Although, technically, if he had to be pedantic, what he was doing was considered 'street basketball,' as it had lots of fancy tricks, but nothing that would help win a real game. Still, the purpose of the talent category was to show off one's skill, and the tricks he had learnt would impress his friends, so Kyle couldn't really complain.

“Okay, that was contestant number 18, Sarah Barker, thank you, Sarah!” said Mr. Jones, as Sarah, who had tap-danced, stepped off the stage to cheers and applause. “If I could have our 7 – 8 boys line up next to the stage for the talent round? The 7 – 8 boys, please?”

Being sure that he was again in numerical order, Kyle lined up with the rest of his age group. This time, he noticed the people in the audience staring at him, and looking at his outfit. Some of them were smiling, but Kyle didn't think it was because they were happy. Some of them were whispering to their neighbours, covering their mouths, some were sniggering, and one or two even pointed. Kyle directed his attention to the stage as the first contestant stepped on, trying not to think about what they could be saying, but he overheard some snippets of conversation.

“Does he know we're not doing sportswear?” one woman muttered just loud enough to be heard, causing her and her friend to erupt in giggles.

“Hope he's got something prepared.”

“Man, he needs to get more prepared.” Kyle bit his lip nervously even though he had no reason to be nervous; he had a routine for talent, and he also had one for sportswear. He had different outfits, so he definitely didn't mess them up; he was prepared for the correct category, and he knew that, but he just couldn't stand to be laughed at.

Sheila and Tony then approached him, and Sheila made some final adjustments to his clothing.

“You nervous?” Tony asked, and Kyle shook his head, hoping that he hadn't heard the comments.

“Kyle never gets nervous for talent,” Sheila told him, straightening Kyle's vest.

“Great; well, good luck,” Tony grinned, clapping Kyle on the shoulder.

“I'm gonna get your hoop ready,” said Sheila, referring to Kyle's basketball hoop, which she placed on the stage before Kyle's routine so that it was ready for him. “And I'll be behind the judges, okay? Good luck, bubbe.”

As she left, Kyle turned his attention back to the stage, where number four had just finished his street dancing routine, and the crowd were cheering.

“Thank you, Steven, number four!” cried Mr. Jones. “And now, please welcome with a nice round of applause, number five, Kyle Broflovski!” The crowd applauded politely as Sheila quickly set up the hoop on the far side of the stage. Kyle waited until his music, “Get Ready For This,” by 2 Unlimited, began to blare out of the speakers, and he stepped onto the stage, stopping at his first X and smiling at the judges.

His routines didn't vary much from when he had first started out, but for the talent category, Kyle added two more tricks that he had learnt. First, he bounced the ball, as usual, swinging his legs over it, and changing hands, then he dribbled over to his second X, and began to bounce the ball once again, this time through his legs in a figure of eight pattern, and the crowd began to clap.

He then balanced the ball on the back of his hand, and rolled it up his arm, letting it rest on the back of his neck for just a second, before rolling it down his left arm, and catching it in his hand. The audience cheered, and Kyle repeated the move, sending the ball back the same way.

Kyle then half-ran down the catwalk, bouncing the ball between his legs every so often, and paused on the third X, being sure to keep the smile on his face. He took a step back, and did what was known as the “arm roll,” where he would place his arms in front of him in a circular position, and roll the ball up one arm, across his chest, and down the other arm, keeping the ball circling. The crowd were enjoying it, but when Kyle spun the ball on his finger, they lost their minds, cheering, whooping, clapping as loudly as they could.

Giving his best smile to the judges, Kyle turned and made his way back on the catwalk, dribbling the ball all the time, and went over to his fourth X. There, he spun the ball on his finger again, and the crowd went wild, before performing few set shots and jump shots.

As the music ended, Kyle caught the ball one last time, and turned to face the audience, grinning widely. They were still applauding and cheering, and Sheila came running up to the side of the stage. He had to admit, it felt good to have people cheering for him.

“And that was contestant number five, Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle!” Kyle stepped off the stage as Sheila grabbed the hoop, and they walked to the back of the room where Gerald was still sat.

“Well done,” she smiled, the compliment causing Kyle to grin up at her. “I think that was the best you've ever done it.”

“That was great!” a little girl piped up as Kyle passed her. He noticed now that nearly all of the people in the audience were smiling, and this time they looked happy.

“Thanks!” he beamed, as Tony came running up to him.

“You did amazing!” he gushed, giving the boy a high five. “Just amazing!” Kyle looked over at his father, who was no longer scowling.

“You did great,” he said, “Those are some cool tricks.”

“Thanks,” said Kyle.

He didn't have much time to relax, however, as Mr. Jones was calling for his age group to get ready as they would be lining up after the girls. Kyle placed his basketball on a chair, and re-joined his group and they lined up along the back wall at the little girls had their turn on stage.

“Okay, give it up for your 7 – 8 girls, ladies and gentlemen!” called Mr. Jones as the little girls exited the stage, and the audience clapped and cheered. “Okay, now if I could have the 7 – 8 boys' line up on stage, the 7 – 8 boys', please.”

Kyle followed the rest of his group and again lined up along the back of the stage, smiling out at the audience. He could see Sheila standing behind the judges' table, along with a few other parents, watching them.

Just as before, Mr. Jones asked them to turn and face the back, and Kyle did so, letting the smile drop from his face to relax his aching cheeks. “Once again, your 7 – 8 boys'; give it up for them!” said Mr. Jones after the boys' had turned around once more, and they walked off the stage.

Kyle was now done for the rest of the day, and so the four of them decided to head back to their rooms.

Once there, Kyle changed back into his everyday clothes, and shoved his hat over his coif. Gerald came into the bathroom while he was scrubbing his face clean.

“Do ya wanna go out and do some sightseeing?” he asked in a low voice, and Kyle turned around.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why not, we're in New York. Come on,” Kyle followed his father to the door. Ike was sat on one of the beds, playing on his phone. “Honey, we're just going to have a look around; I need to stretch my legs!” Gerald called as he opened the door.

“Okay, well don't be too long; Kyle needs to get some practise in for tomorrow!” Sheila had her back to them, and was arranging Kyle's clothes for the following day. He was going to be competing in Sportswear, Wow Wear, and Casual Wear the following day.

“We won't!” Gerald called, and closed the door. “Where do you want to go first?” he asked his son as they walked quickly through the halls.

“Um, the Statue of Liberty – no, the Empire State Building! No, the Natural History Museum!” Kyle almost ran through the hotel lobby towards the front doors. He couldn't wait to get out and start exploring.

Gerald had to laugh as his son waited impatiently for him; it was nice to see Kyle excited and acting like a kid for once.

“Well, we'll find out which one's the closest and do that one,” he decided, stepping out onto the bustling street, and looking for a map of some kind.

As they were the closest to the Empire State Building, that was where they decided to go, and to perhaps visit somewhere else the following day.

Luck seemed to be on their side that afternoon as there was only a minimal wait after Gerald had purchased tickets, and they were soon in the queue waiting to up to the observational deck.

“I wanna go right to the very top, and then we can see everything!” said Kyle, his eyes glowing with happiness. “And they even have these binoculars you can look through! I'm gonna see if I can see the Statue of Liberty; I'll bet we can see it pretty close up!” Kyle barely stopped chattering until the they had reached the very top, and he exited the lift as quickly as he could, and ran onto the deck. Gerald spotted him over by the railings, looking out at the skyline. “Wow!” Kyle's eyes widened as he looked over the city. Being born in South Park, he had never seen a major metropolitan city before, whereas Gerald and Sheila had, and the father realised what a treat it was for Kyle to see something like this. “I never knew it was so big,” he admitted; he could never have imagined people living in a city this size. They probably never got bored.

“It's amazing, isn't it?” said Gerald and Kyle nodded. For a while, the both of them continued to gaze out over the skyline, silently. “So...” asked Gerald after a few moments, “what is it you like about pageants?”

“Look! You can see even better through here!” Kyle had moved over to where the binoculars were and was looking through them intently. “The Statue looks really close,” he observed, changing the angle, so that he was looking at the people on the ground waiting to go up to the famed statue.

“Kyle, what do you like about pageants?” Gerald repeated, turning to face his son.

“I just.. like them,” Kyle said, still looking through the binoculars.

“But what is it?” Gerald pressed. “Is it the being on stage? The awards? What? I don't understand.”

“I just like them,” Kyle repeated, not looking at his father. “I mean, without them, we would never have gone to New York; so I get to travel. That's good. And,” his voice grew quiet, “I suppose it's nice to hear people cheer for me.”

“So, that's why you like them?” asked Gerald. “Because people cheer for you? You know, you get that if you join the basketball team. Why don't you do that?”

“I can't join the team,” muttered Kyle angrily. “I'm too short, and I'm not black.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Gerald said a little sharper than he had intended. “Look, just because you're short and white doesn't mean you can't play basketball. You're good at it! You are! I have no idea where you get it from, because your mother and me are both terrible at sports.” He saw that Kyle was refusing to look at him. “All I'm saying is, if you want people to cheer for you, you don't have to do pageants. There are other things.”

“You don't understand,” Kyle muttered, but Gerald heard him.

“So, help me understand,” said Gerald. “I just don't get why you're doing this just to please your mom!”

“That's why I'm doing it!” Kyle snapped suddenly, finally turning to face his father. “Don't you understand? This is the most time she's spent with me since I can remember! I like that, didn't you know? So, I don't really care that I have to do these stupid things, at least I get to spend time with my mom!” Kyle turned around and resumed looking through the binoculars. Gerald was slightly stunned. He understood now.

“Okay,” he said, looking down at his son. “You do what you gotta do.” And no more was said.

* * *

They arrived back at the hotel a few hours later, as evening was falling. As they had left the Empire State Building, Gerald had quickly glanced at his phone, and noticed the missed calls and unread messages from Sheila. He checked the time, and realised that they had been gone for at least three hours.

As soon as they had entered the room, Sheila was standing there, waiting for them, glaring, with her hands on her hips. Gerald felt Kyle shrink next to him, quavering under his mother's stare.

“Just going to have a look around?” she said, and Kyle's gaze turned to the floor.

“That's what we did,” said Gerald brightly, not quite meeting her gaze.

“You didn't say you were leaving the hotel; I've been looking for you for ages.”

“Kyle wanted to go sightseeing,” Kyle's head whipped up to look at Gerald. He was _not_ going to let his dad pin this on him.

“You asked me if I wanted to go!”

“Well, we're in New York,” Gerald directed this at Sheila. “Why shouldn't we go sightseeing?”

“That's not the point; I didn't know where you were! I kept trying to call. I didn't know where my son was!”

“You knew I was with him! Kyle's not gonna go wandering off with a stranger – he's not stupid!” If Kyle were a little bit younger, he would have covered his ears the way he used to when his parents argued.

“You should have said you were leaving,” said Sheila. “I told you Kyle needs to practise for tomorrow; now he doesn't have time!”

“It's okay, Mom; I know my routines,” Kyle told her, wanting them to stop.

“I know, bubbe, but there's no such thing as too much practise,” Sheila said, sighing. “We're just gonna have to make sure you get some practise in tomorrow.” When Kyle nodded, having no other alternative, she smiled. “Good; now get to bed. You need your sleep.”

* * *

The next morning, Kyle was awakened several hours earlier than he would have liked in order to practise his routines. He, along with Sheila and Tony were in the hallway, and Kyle was going through his steps. It was too early to play music, so instead Sheila counted to four over and over again, to help Kyle keep his time.

It was Tony who had introduced the counting. Kyle's lack of rhythm was still atrocious; he couldn't seem to move in time, no matter what he did, and he couldn't hear the beat of the music. So, Tony had begun counting, and Kyle's sense of timing had improved slightly.

“Don't forget to make that spin nice and sharp,” Sheila instructed quickly, before resuming counting. Kyle only kept quiet as he did as he was told.

When Sheila was satisfied that his routines were up to scratch, the three of them then went back to their room to get ready. Kyle's first category was Wow Wear, and he was getting into his costume. He really disliked the outfit; the sparkles, the ridiculous tailcoat and waistcoat, all of it, really. But he didn't have a say in the matter, that was plain, and so all Kyle could do was get into the costume and hope that he would never have to wear it again.

When he was dressed, they headed down to the dressing room to do Kyle's hair and makeup. They sat in the same corner they had the previous day, and Tony got to work on Kyle's hair. Sheila always wanted them to be ready with plenty of time to spare, because her son's hair took almost half an hour from start to finish, and there was always that chance that the pageant could start early. If a contestant was late, points were deducted, and one or two points could mean the difference between winning and losing.

When he was finally ready, Sheila and Kyle made their way to the ballroom to watch the pageant, while Tony remained in the dressing room to prep his other client. The pageant had not long begun, and the babies' category was in full swing. Music was playing, and the crowd were cheering as one little girl was paraded around on stage by her mother.

Kyle had managed to grab his phone, and so he was playing that as the pageant progressed, becoming completely engrossed in his game that he forgot all about the competition.

However, all too soon, it was time for his age group to line up, and Kyle reluctantly put his phone down, and made his way to the side of the room, Sheila following him, and Gerald and Ike remained in their seats. As he waited for his turn, while Sheila fussed over his clothes, Kyle observed the other boys' and what they were wearing. As Wow Wear was more or less the same as Outfit of Choice, the costumes were rather varied. There was a Peter Pan, an Elvis, a Spiderman, Mick Jagger, amongst other well-known characters. Once again, Kyle felt rather out of place, but there was nothing he could do, as it was time for him to go on stage, and he hitched his smile into place.

He stepped onto the stage, smiling brightly as the crowd applauded. Taking a moment to spot the judges and make eye contact with them, Kyle posed and then twirled. He then marched over to his next X, saluting all the while, before twirling again, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt.

The crowd were applauding politely, and Kyle spotted his mother standing behind the judges, watching him. He couldn't read her expression, so he continued with his routine, and made his way down the catwalk. Once at the third X, Kyle bent down on one knee, placing his right hand on his left shoulder, smiling all the while. Standing back up, he turned around, and walked back up the runway. Back on his second X, he turned and paused with his back to the audience, and looked over his shoulder at the judges, smiling, before completing the turn. He then placed one hand on his sparkling lapel, and turned again, before walking over to his last X. There, he did another salute and winked at the judges, before waving and walking off stage to more applause.

His mother was waiting for him as usual, and he followed her back to where they had been sitting. Gerald was again scowling, and Ike was playing on his phone, completely disinterested in the whole event.

“How did I do?” he asked, as they walked to their seats.

“Okay. You looked a bit bored up there,” she told him. “We need to work on that.”

“Well, I still feel silly,” he said, as they sat down, lowering his voice.

“If you'd just put some effort in, then you wouldn't feel silly, bubbe,” she said, facing him.”Trust me, it looks sillier when you're up there doing it half-heartedly, than when you're putting 100 per cent in.” Kyle only looked back up at the stage, where the last boy in his age group was just finishing up to applause. “We'd better get changed for Sportswear,” said Sheila, standing up and Kyle did the same.

Fifteen minutes later, Sheila and Kyle returned to the ballroom, with Kyle now dressed in his white trousers, his black leather jacket lined with red with Formula One logos dotted on it and matching cap, along with a black and white chequered flag.

A lot of the boys' were dressed similarly to him, with racing themed outfits, although there were a few wearing football and wrestling outfits.

After this, Kyle only had the Casual Wear category to compete in, and then he was free until the crowning ceremony in the evening. The Portfolio category had already been completed that morning; as all the judges did was review photos of each contestant, and the results were tallied onto the scoring sheets.

Kyle was wondering what he would do to pass the time after his final category when his age group was called, and so he lined up with the rest of the boys'. Sheila and Tony were standing beside him as the first contestant stepped onstage.

All too soon, it was his turn to perform once again. His routine was pretty much the same as his previous one, except the saluting was replaced with flag waving, and Kyle did as he had been told and posed and twirled and smiled, trying to forget where he was. He was counting to four over and over again in his head, trying to keep in time with the music, and also to make sure that he didn't go over the time limit. Kyle made his way back up the catwalk, and turned around to face the judges, smiling at them.

Sheila was watching from her usual spot behind the judges' table. She felt that Kyle had as good a chance at winning than everyone else. Even though he was still new to the circuit, she was certain that the judges' would look past this and score him on his looks and personality. Although, she had to admit, Kyle still wasn't showing his personality. It was embarrassing, she thought, as she watched him pose and turn on his last X before stepping off stage. She was hoping for a “King” title, as Kyle hadn't won one yet, and if he won his first King at a National pageant, she would be beyond overjoyed. It would be a huge deal for a newbie to win that title, and Sheila was sure that Kyle would do it.

When he had finished, she was waiting for him at the side of the stage, and she wasted no time in telling him what he had done wrong.

“Honestly, Kyle, it's like you're not even trying,” she said as she marched him back up to their room, so that he could get changed for the last category. “Don't you want to win? The stakes are so much higher now; you've gotta put everything into it.”

“I'm trying, Ma,” Kyle said, as they entered their hotel room.

“You could try a lot harder, bubbe,” she handed him his clothes, and Kyle went into the bathroom. “I just want what's best for you,” she continued. “This will do wonders for your confidence!” Kyle privately thought it would do nothing of the sort, but he didn't say this. He came out of the bathroom, wearing his blue plaid, short-sleeved shirt with blue jeans and white trainers,and Sheila smiled at him. “You look great,” she said, before heading over to the door and gesturing for Kyle to follow her.

When they arrived back in the ballroom, the eldest age group was just finishing up, and the nine young ladies stood on stage in their group line up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, these are our 16 – 19 girls, and it's a pleasure to present them to you one more time! Give it up for them!” Mr. Jones encouraged, and the audience applauded as the young women left the stage. “Okay, up next, we have our last category of day; Runway Model, so could I please have our 0 – 18 month contestants lined up next to the stage, please?”

As he waited for his age group, Kyle again took out his phone and resumed his Terrance and Phillip game. He was more than halfway through it now. He became so engrossed in his game, that he didn't hear the emcee announce for his age group to line up. It was only when Sheila took the phone from his hands and nudged him.

“You've got to go up there!” she whispered, gesturing for him to stand, and so he and Tony followed her to the side wall, where the other boys were already lining up. “Remember to just do your best up there,” she told him, as Tony smoothed down a stray lock of hair, quickly whipping out his hairspray can to fix it in place. “Don't let your smile slip,” Sheila reminded him as the first boy stepped on stage.

“I'll try,” said Kyle honestly. He had been practising, but his cheeks started to twitch after about a minute, and then he struggled to hold it in place, especially without it looking fake.

“Well, just keep it natural,” she said. “You know how to do that.”

“Okay, Ma,” he said, as the emcee announced his name.

“And presenting our next contestant, Kyle Broflovski!” Mr Jones called, and the audience applauded as Kyle stepped onto the stage, smiling.

Standing on his first X, he spied the judges, and he smiled at them. Placing one hand on his hip, he turned, and then moved on to the next X. He stood there for a moment, still smiling, before making his way down the catwalk. Once he reached the end, Kyle twirled again. He then placed both hands on his hips, and turned to the left, looking over his shoulder at the judges and nodding, before completing the turn.

Kyle walked back up the catwalk, allowing the smile to drop from his face. When he returned to the second X, he resumed smiling before looking back over his shoulder, and turning back around. Despite him doing this, he was beginning to struggle with his smile, and Sheila noticed.

“His smile's starting to look a bit strained,” she said to Tony, frowning. Tony nodded in agreement and continued watching the boy.

“And that was contestant number five, Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle!” called Mr. Jones, and Kyle stepped off stage to polite applause. Sheila was waiting for him, looking displeased.

“Hey, Ma, I'm done; can I take the makeup off now?” he asked

“Not just yet,” she told him, as they went back to their seats.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so. Now, sit down.” Kyle did as he was told, and he sat there silently as the pageant progressed. “Now, crowning will start in a few hours,” said Sheila, completely ignoring Gerald and Ike. “I want you to be ready nice and early; which means we'll have to redo your makeup. It'll be easier if you left it on,” and Kyle thought about this. Having the makeup on was awful, and he would rather not take it off, and then have to put it on again, and take it off again.

“Alright, I'll leave it on,” he relented.

“Alright, then, bubbe. Come on then,” Sheila stood, and the rest of her family followed suite, and they left the room.

When they were back in their room, Kyle changed into his regular clothes. Ike had flopped down on the bed, playing on his phone, and looking bored out of his mind, and Gerald was talking with Sheila.

“So, after this, you'll be done? No more pageants?”

“Well, Kyle is really starting to get into this now, so we're going to keep doing this for a little while longer.”

“How long? I don't think Kyle's enjoying this as much as you think he is,” Gerald tried to get her to see reason. He didn't want to mention his conversation with Kyle yesterday just yet; he didn't think that Sheila would listen.

“Oh, he is, Gerald,” said Sheila earnestly. “He's really enjoying it, and once we get into the swing of things, it'll be even better.”

“If you're sure,” said Gerald, sighing inwardly. “I just don't want you pushing him too hard; he's only a kid.”

“I'm not pushing him!” Sheila sounded slightly defensive, “I just want him to do his best, and at Nationals, you have to be the best of the best, and what's wrong with that?”

“I'm just saying, go easy on him,” Gerald kept his voice low. “It's not the be all and end all, if he doesn't win.”

“I know that, Gerald; I just want what's best for Kyle.”

A few hours later, the Broflovskis, plus Tony, were back in the ballroom for the crowning ceremony. Kyle was back in his tuxedo, and Tony had touched up his makeup before they re-entered the ballroom. Kyle was just waiting for the ceremony to be over and done with so that he could wash his face.

Unlike the previous pageants, the youngest boys' group would be awarded first, followed by the youngest girls, and then they would move on to the next age group. Tony's other client, Bobby, had been crowned Prince of his category, and had been given a crown and a trophy. Tony and Bobby's overjoyed mother had both hugged him when he got off stage.

Before too long, his age group was called, and Kyle got in line with the other boys'. Sheila followed him. “Good luck, bubbe,” she said, and Kyle looked up at her. “Congratulate whoever wins, and keep smiling, okay?” Kyle only nodded, and she left to go and sit down. He truthfully didn't know what was going to happen; one on hand, he felt as though he had as good a chance as anyone else, but on the other hand, he didn't feel experienced enough to have competed in a prestigious national pageant.

“Could I please have our 7 – 8 boys' on the stage, please? The 7 – 8 boys'!” called Mr. Jones, and Kyle and the others climbed on stage, and lined up along the back. Kyle made sure to smile at the judges; he wasn't sure if he was supposed to, but that's what he had been doing at every pageant so far. “We will first give out the side awards,” announced Jones. “Then we will crown our Prince, and our King. Okay, your Best Dressed is... Zack Greene!” Zack, the last boy in the line up, raised his hand, and a medal was placed around his neck, while the audience clapped and cheered. “Your Most Photogenic is...” Sheila held her breath. “Sean Atkinson!” Her jaw dropped as the blonde haired, blue eyed boy raised his hand and accepted his medal. She had been certain that Kyle would win that; his new photos were amazing, and she thought they really showed off his looks. She was barely able to stop herself from scowling. “Your Best Eyes is... Kyle Broflovski!” Kyle did what the previous winners' had done, and raised his hand as a gold medal was placed around his neck. He looked up, still smiling (although it was looking more and more fake by the minute), and spotted Sheila standing off to the side. She didn't look happy, he noted, and he was sure he knew why; she wanted him to win a crown. He felt slightly upset that he hadn't done a good enough job. He stood there, as Jack Collins and Ethan Kelly were crowned Prince and King, respectively. “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for your 7 – 8 King, Ethan Kelly!” called Mr. Jones, and the audience clapped and cheered as Ethan stood front and centre, a crown on his head, and a sash, grinning widely. “Let's have a hand for all of our boys'!” Urged Jones, and the audience applauded loudly as the boys stepped off stage.

Kyle made his way back over to Sheila, who was still looking disappointed.

“Well, come on then,” she said. “Let's go back to the room.”

“Aren't we going to stay and watch the rest?” Kyle was confused; Sheila had always insisted on staying until the end; it was good sportsmanship, she said.

“We have an flight in a few hours, and we need to get packing,” she told him, heading to the back of the room, with Kyle following.

“Is that it?” asked Gerald when his wife and son approached him. He felt quite shocked when Sheila nodded. They had seriously flown to New York and shelled out hundreds of dollars... for a medal? “Do you really think that it was worth it?”

“It's all trial and error,” said Sheila, crossing over to the window and closing the curtains. “Nobody wins big at a National first time; you gotta work for it. Besides, he still won something.”

“Yeah, a flimsy little medal,” Gerald muttered under his breath. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well if you think you know what you're doing,” was all he said, heading off to the bathroom, where Kyle was washing his face. “How was that for you?” he asked quietly, and Kyle looked at him in the mirror.

“Alright,” he said. “Pretty much the same as usual.”

“And do you think it was worth it?” Kyle hesitated.

“Yes and no,” he said. “I got to see New York, didn't I?” Gerald didn't say anything, and instead left the room, shaking his head.

The next morning, the Broflovski family were back in South Park, and Kyle was back in school. They had arrived home at 4:00am after a six hour flight. Ike had pretty much slept throughout the entire plane ride, and had only awoken when he was put into the car. Kyle had fallen asleep on the plane, as well, and had awakened when they had landed. He'd fallen back asleep in the car, and had woke up again when they arrived home. Kyle had then dragged himself up to his bed for a much needed extra three hours sleep.

Stan made no comment on his absence over the weekend; he knew where Kyle had been, and what he had been doing, and he wasn't going to mention it in front of Cartman.

Kyle had simply said that he had been sick, but he was feeling better now. He was actually still tired from the journey home, so it was easy for him to be convincing.

Cartman claimed that he didn't even know that Kyle had been gone over the weekend. All in all, it was a normal Monday morning.

Kyle just carried on as normal, which was mainly arguing with Cartman, who seemed to be trying extra hard to push Kyle's buttons that morning.

Whenever Kyle spoke, Cartman would mimic him in a high-pitched voice, and he constantly kicked the red head's chair. Just one of those things was enough to drive Kyle crazy, but the combination of both, along with how tired he was, made him snap.

“God damn it, leave me the fuck alone, fat ass!” Kyle twisted around in his chair and screamed in Cartman's face. Cartman opened his mouth to retaliate, but before he could say anything, Mr Garrison spoke.

“Alright, that's it! Kyle, Eric – counsellor's, now!” Anything to get them out of his hair.

“Ay! That's not fair, why should I have to go?!” snapped Cartman. “Kahl's the one that disrupted class!”

“Oh, for God's sake, Eric, just get out!” Cartman purposely kicked his chair over as he stormed out of the room, with an equally angry Kyle following him. Stan could only pinch his nose and groan.

Both Kyle and Cartman were sat outside Mr. Mackey's office. Kyle was fuming, but Cartman couldn't care less; this was a weekly occurrence for him, and he got to skip class, so he was happy about that.

“Seriously, though, what's your problem?” asked Cartman, as Kyle stared ahead, scowling. “Too much sand in your vagina?”

“There's no sand in my vagina!” Kyle snapped.

“Kahl, your vagina is so full of sand right now, I'm seriously. It's falling out!” Cartman gasped dramatically and pointed to the floor. Fortunately, he was saved from Kyle's wrath by the voice of Mr. Mackey calling them inside.

“Alright, boys, what seems to be the problem, m'kay?” asked the counsellor as both boys sat down.

“Oh, nothing, Mr. Mackey; just that my friend Kahl here has a load of sand trapped in his vagina.”

“Shut up, fat boy!” Kyle snapped.

“I'm not fat, you anorexic Jew!” Cartman snapped back, and Mackey only buried his head in his hands.

“M'kay, boys, you need to understand that treating people like that is bad, m'kay? Are you going to start being nice to one another?”

“Fine. Whatever,” Kyle muttered, crossing his arms and scowling. Cartman merely placed his hands behind his head and grinned.

When they were dismissed, it was break time, and so they headed out to the playground. Finding Stan and Kenny by the roundabout, they made their way over to their friends.

“What's up, dudes?” asked Stan, looking up from his phone.

“Just Cartman driving me crazy, as usual,” said Kyle, kicking the snow bitterly.

“Not my fault you're as uptight as a horny nun!” snapped Cartman, causing Kenny to burst into laughter.

“Shut up, fat boy!” said Stan, rolling his eyes, and Cartman and Kenny continued to laugh. “You okay?” he asked Kyle quietly.

“Yeah,” said Kyle, “just feeling a bit tired, you know?” Stan nodded.

“You got any more coming up?” he asked out of curiosity, and Kyle shrugged.

“I don't think so,” he said.

How wrong he was.

Over the next two months, Kyle competed in five more pageants, two of them National ones, and lost them all. To his surprise, Kyle was feeling rather upset over this, and he was ashamed.

He knew he shouldn't be as upset as he was, but he couldn't help it. The whole idea of the pageants was for Sheila to prove that he was good looking, and in Kyle's mind, because he hadn't yet won, then it must mean that he wasn't good looking.

Deep down, Kyle knew he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help it. With every loss, it was like being slapped in the face with that list over and over again, and he hated it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from feeling down, and Sheila noticed.

“Don't feel bad, bubbe,” she had told him, after driving him home from one Colorado pageant. “Just because you don't win,doesn't mean you're not good; it just wasn't your time. You just need to work harder next time.” But he could he work better on being good-looking, Kyle wondered miserably. He was already wearing nice clothes and makeup, what more could he do?

He had taken to inspecting himself in front of the mirror when he brushed his teeth at night, scrutinising himself. On the surface, he couldn't see a problem, but once Kyle started mentally dissecting his face, he began to see flaws. On first viewing, he saw that his eyes were big; a trademark of good looks, or so he'd heard, his skin was smooth and pale, his lips were plump. But on closer inspection, Kyle began to think that maybe his eyes were too close together, or maybe he was too pale, or maybe his mouth looked swollen.

His nose wasn't all that big, in all honesty, but Kyle still felt like it was too big to fit on his face.

That evening, he frowned at his reflection as he brushed his teeth.

“What am I doing wrong?” he asked himself, hating the fact that he cared.

* * *

At the end of the week, Kyle, Sheila and Tony were back in Denver for the Colorado Beauty mini National pageant, and they were in the ballroom.

Kyle had spent the weekend competing in the Beauty, Talent, and Casual Wear categories, and now he was waiting for his age group to be called. He didn't think he had done particularly well in this pageant, but surprisingly, Sheila had disagreed, saying that it had been his best ever.

All too soon, Kyle was lining up on the stage with the the other boys. There were six, including him, and he was second in the line up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our 7 – 9 boys', give it up for them, they've been great!” called the emcee, whose name was escaping Kyle, and the audience applauded and cheered. “We will first announce our Optional titles. Your Best Hair is... Milo Jenkins!” Milo, a little dark haired, cheeky looking boy, raised his hand, and a small, knee high trophy was placed in front of him.

Best Eyes went to another little boy, Best Smile went to.. not Kyle. Most Photogenic was not Kyle, and the redhead couldn't help feeling disappointed. He mainly wanted to win something so that he could quit, but now the desire to prove that he could win was burning. Just one title, and then he wouldn't care. He hated the fact that he wanted to win, but if he did, then at least he would have proof that he wasn't ugly.

But today, that seemed unlikely, as the last of the side awards were given out, and Kyle hadn't won anything.

The Prince, Robert Haddely, an exceedingly handsome nine year old, crowned, and Kyle sighed inwardly. Robert had wavy, golden blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a charming smile. He had also won Most Photogenic, which Kyle knew he would, and he couldn't understand why Robert hadn't been crowned King.

“And your 2018 King is... _Kyle Broflovski!”_ Kyle froze, the smile slipping off his face. He looked over at the emcee, who was smiling and clapping, as were the other boys'. Following a gentle nudge, Kyle stepped forward as a lady approached him, holding a rather elegant imperial-style crown with a red velvet cap with a gold frame, along with a sash. Kyle stood on the second X, looking out at the applauding audience as he was crowned King. He couldn't help himself.

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! What did you think? I'd love to know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all, I'm back with the next chapter. I apologise for the delay; I have a new job which is keeping me busy.

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 6

Kyle soon began to regret his win. If he thought that Sheila had been working him hard before this, it was nothing compared to what she was doing now.

She had held off on the pageants for the moment, as she and Tony were preparing him for the National circuit, which meant new, original routines, a different routine for every category. Kyle had to practise them every day at home, doing it over and over again until Sheila was satisfied. Each lesson was devoted to perfecting a new routine, with fifteen minutes set aside at the beginning to practice turns and smiling for the beauty section.

“Right, bubbe,” said Sheila on the drive to Tony's, “you have a National coming up in two months, and we need to be more prepared than we were last time, which means you need to know your routines back to front.”

Kyle only nodded, not really having a choice in the matter.

Once settled at Tony's, they immediately got to work. Sheila was very insistent that his smile be natural, and that Kyle be able to hold it for his allotted time on stage.

Kyle had to admit, he was getting better; the corners of his mouth didn't twitch so much any more, and his cheeks didn't ache. Of course, this was mainly down to the secret Tony had taught him, and a little trick Kyle had discovered.

Tony's secret was that when one's back is facing the judges, to just relax the smile by letting the mouth hang open, quickly replacing it before turning around. Kyle was surprised to find out that it worked; those few seconds of relief really helped his smile to stay put.

Kyle's own trick was to not let his teeth touch. He found that, more often than not, he would end up clenching his teeth, which in turn, made his smile look strained. So, he would keep his teeth just a tiny bit apart, barely a millimetre, to create the illusion of a natural, relaxed smile.

These two tricks did wonders for him, as Sheila heaped praise on him over and over again.

* * *

A few days before the pageant, Kings and Queens of America in South Carolina, Sheila took Kyle to the mall.

“Where are we going?” he asked, as he followed her.

“You'll see,” was all she said.

Kyle couldn't help but hope that it was to the toy store, perhaps for a new game. Perhaps this was his mother's way of rewarding him for his hard work?

To his dismay, they stopped outside the beauty salon.

“Are – are you going to get your hair done?” he asked apprehensively.

“No, bubbe. You are. I've booked you in for a full treatment.” Kyle's eyes widened.

“Ma, no!” He could take being dressed up, made up, and paraded around like a show dog, but he drew the line at stepping into a beauty salon.

“Kyle, you need this,” she told him. “All contestants have it; it'll be good for you to stand out.”

“I've never had to have this done before, so why now?” he argued.

“Kyle, this is a Southern pageant, okay? Some of the contestants there have been doing this since they were babies; even the boys. We need to do everything we can to make the judges notice you, and that means doing this.”

Kyle's protests were ignored, as Sheila pulled him inside the salon. There, he stared at the ground, beet red, while Sheila confirmed his appointment, and he was led over to a chair. To his dismay, his hat was removed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as the lady placed his treasured ushanka to one side.

“I'm just going to wash your hair,” she smiled.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I already wash it at home.”

“Kyle, this is a special wash to get your hair soft and shiny,” said his mother, settling down on the chair next to him. “All that hairspray will damage your hair overtime.”

“He's got lovely hair,” smiled the hairdresser, playing with one of his curls.

Kyle could only sit there and pray no-one walked past and recognised him, as his hair was washed with several different lotions, before being dried and brushed. As soon as he was allowed, he jammed his hat back onto his head.

He had thought that that was it, but he was led over to another chair. There was a lady sat behind a desk, which had a large light on the side. He realised what it was as soon as he sat down.

“Right, hands on the table, bubbe,” said Sheila. Kyle, wishing that the floor would just open him up and swallow him, reluctantly placed his hands on the desk.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I'm going to buff your nails, clean up the cuticles, get rid of any hangnails, and polish them.”

“No polish!” he insisted.

“It's not that kind of polish,” Sheila told him. “It's just something to make your nails look shiny.”

Kyle could only groan and close his eyes as his hands were worked on. The sound of the nail file made him want to rip his teeth out. It seemed to go on forever, and when the lady was done, she rubbed his palms with a pumice stone, before following it up with a moisturiser.

“What's the occasion?” asked the lady. “Wedding? Hand model?” she grinned at Sheila.

“My bubbe does pageants, and we have a big one coming up.” It was clear from the look on the lady's face that she was not expecting that answer.

“Oh.. how nice,” she said. “I didn't know they did pageants for boys. How long has he been doing them?”

“About six months.”

“Ah.”

He had thought he was done, but the next thing he knew, he was soaking his feet in a tub of warm, pleasant smelling water.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Bubble bath and Epsom salts,” said the lady. “Just sit and relax.”

When his feet were dry, again, his nails were trimmed and buffed, the hangnails were removed, and his feet were exfoliated and moisturised. He was actually squirming with embarrassment, and he hoped that would be it.

He and Sheila were then taken into the back room, where there was a table in the middle of the room. Kyle was then told to lie on the table.

He then had to lie there for almost an hour while the beautician rubbed various creams and moisturisers into his face.

When he was done, he left the salon as quickly as he could, hoping that he would never have to do that again.

It wasn't the end, though; he now had to wash his face every morning and evening, and use cream. Exfoliating and moisturising, Sheila had called it. As much as he hated to admit it, his skin was feeling much smoother and softer.

* * *

Less than a week later, he was on a plane, heading to South Carolina. He wasn't too nervous; this was just another pageant. It didn't really matter if it was a National; all he could do was do his best, like he had been doing.

Tony was also with them, and, as usual, the pageant was being held at an old hotel.

However, as soon as they entered the lobby, Kyle knew this pageant was going to be different. This one made the other Nationals he had competed in look like small, local contests. It wasn't just contestants and their parents; it was entire families come to support them. Many of them were wearing T-shirts or badges with the pageant kid's photo on it.

Nobody seemed very friendly, Kyle thought, observing the kids, mainly little girls, standing there, their hair in curlers. Many of the adults were eyeing the other children, trying to suss out the main competition.

“This is the big leagues,” Sheila said to him, once they had finally registered. “They take it very seriously here, so you really need to be on your toes.” Kyle sat on the twin bed, looking out at the window, while Sheila continued. “It's not just crowns and trophies you win here; you can win money. And some pageant offer cars, cruises, modelling contracts. A contract would be amazing. You'd like that, wouldn't you, bubbe? To be on the cover of a magazine?” Kyle didn't answer as she happily prattled on, organising his clothes, and photographs.

“Ma, what categories are there?” he asked, turning around to look at her.

“Beauty, Talent, and Outfit of Choice,” she said. “Your outfit is your sparkly tailcoat. We're getting some more costumes for that category, so you'll have to make do for now.” Kyle only nodded. “There's also the portfolio category; that's why I have your photos here. Oh, by the way, in about two weeks, we have another photo shoot; you need new photos.”

Kyle only nodded again, scowling to himself.

* * *

The next morning, Kyle, in his white tux and makeup, hair coiffed and sprayed to perfection, entered the grand ballroom. He had never seen such a crowded room. There were so many people that there weren't enough chairs, and lots of them had to stand.

As a rule, he never paid too much attention to the other contestants, but even he could see that these kids were at the top of their game. It was going to be extremely difficult to win, or even place.

“Right, Kyle, your age group is up next, are you ready?” asked Tony.

“Yep.”

“Show me your smile,” said Sheila, and Kyle obediently grinned up at her. “No, your pageant smile.” Kyle let his jaw drop, before settling into his 'pageant smile'; eyebrows ever so slightly raised, teeth barely touching, and Sheila nodded in approval.

It was almost time for his group, and so he lined up with the rest of the boys. “The way I see it, your main competition is him,” Sheila pointed to an adorable little boy further up the line. “I watched him practise last night; he's amazing; he's what you should be like. Watch him.”

Kyle watched as the boy stepped onto the stage. He had dimples, and fluffy golden-brown hair, and he was very playful on stage, flirting with the judges. Kyle sighed, sucking in his cheeks as he prepared to go onstage. He had his work cut out for him.

Sheila and Tony stood at the side, watching as Kyle did his beauty walk. Sheila smiled; Kyle was starting to look more comfortable and natural on stage; his smile didn't look forced, and he was good at making eye contact with the judges.

Kyle reached the end of the catwalk, and paused, taking his time to spot the judges, he blinked deeply as his smile deepened, another trick Tony had taught him, before turning. As he'd been working at it, it looked really natural, and it looked like he was happy to see them.

He paused with his back to the judges, and looked over his shoulder at them, before completing the turn.

“His smile's looking good,” said Sheila.

“Yeah, he's gotten really good at holding it.”  
  


When Kyle had finished his routine, he left the stage and approached his mother.

“That was really good,” she told him, and Kyle grinned.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said, before a voice calling him caused him to turn.

“Hey, you were really good,” said the little boy, who had been the first in their age group.

“Thanks; you were, too,” said Kyle. “I'm Kyle, what's your name?”

“I'm Fred.”

Grateful to have someone to talk to, Kyle and Fred chatted happily until they had to go back onstage for the group line-up. When that was over, Fred went and sat with his mother, and Kyle did the same.

It was rather a confusing weekend for Kyle; these people took pageants _very_ seriously. The parents of the contestants' constantly fussed over them, making sure they looked absolutely perfect; a lot of parents would help the children by performing their routines behind the judges' table. Kids would practise in the halls only moments before going on stage. It all felt too much for Kyle.

Sheila had begun mingling, trying to make friends; to Kyle's surprise, lots of people were very warm and friendly, and gladly accepted her.

He was glad that his only category for the first day was Beauty, and so he was able to relax. Like his mother, he'd made a few new friends; the kids were very eager to play. At that moment, he and three other little boys were sat on the floor, playing together on their phones, sharing tips and tricks to beat the bad guy.

After a while, they grew bored of sitting around, and went to explore.

“Wanna play hide-and-seek?” asked Archie.

“Okay,” Kyle grinned.

“I'll be It!” Archie bounced excitedly. “Hotel only; no going outside!”

“Close your eyes and count to 100!” cried Kyle over his shoulder, as he Fred, and Tim took off running.

Being a hotel, there were several places to hide, and Kyle crouched down behind a large, potted fern. He peeked through the leaves as Archie ran through the lobby, looking left and right. He couldn't see where the others were.

“Found you!” cried Archie and Fred, looming over the plant. Kyle leapt up and joined them in searching for Tim.

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing various games; tag, more hide-and-seek, sardines, and generally just burning off all of their pent-up energy.

* * *

The following day, Kyle was back in his tux in the ballroom, onstage with the rest of his age group for the crowning ceremony. His talent routine had gone very well, with the audience practically exploding when he did his moves. His Outfit of Choice had been okay, but by now, both Kyle and Sheila knew that “okay” meant “no win.”

In the end, he ended up winning “Prince,” which wasn't bad, but it wasn't King.

So, that was now Kyle's life; if he wasn't preparing for a pageant, then he was travelling to one, or he was competing. If he wasn't doing those, then he was being fitted for costumes, posing for photos, and taking basketball lessons. He was soon exhausted.

“So, hopefully, pretty soon, we'll start winning the National and Supreme titles,” Sheila was saying, on the way to yet another pageant. “Then our hard work will start paying off.” They had been doing Southern pageants almost exclusively, driving across several states in order to save money.

Kyle believed he was getting better, but he still never won anything outside his age group, and he honestly believed he never would. This was not good news for him, as Sheila recently mentioned her dream for him to win a National title in every State.

“How did I get myself into this?” he muttered, lying down in the back of the car for a much-needed nap.

The pageants had completely consumed Sheila; Kyle was now competing every single weekend. When there were no Nationals coming up, she had Kyle compete in small, local ones, much like when he first started out, “to keep him in practise,” she'd said.

“You can't get sloppy,” she said. “You need to be at your best, every single time.”

“I am doing my best, Ma.”

“I know, bubbe, but once we get that first win, then the others'll follow. So, we've got to work extra hard to get there.”

They were in Denver, at a mini-National pageant, “Little Beauties of America,” and the very small amount of boys, not just in his age group, but throughout the competition, gave Kyle hope that he would win.

However, Sheila was no longer content with Prince and King titles. Kyle didn't care either way, but Sheila was almost desperate for “National Beauty,” or “Overall Photogenic Supreme,” any high title that paid cash, really. Or a modelling contract.

As per usual for him, he won the King title, leaving Sheila unimpressed.

“I don't think I'll ever win big, Ma,” he tried to placate her in the car on the way home.

“You will, if you just keep practising.”

He said nothing, and they made the rest of the trip in silence.

* * *

“So, Sheila, where have you been?” asked Sharon, sipping on her coffee. The two of them were sat in Sheila's kitchen, while Kyle and Stan were upstairs, playing.

“Oh, my little Kyle and I have been very busy.”

“Oh, really? Doing what?”

“Kyle's been doing beauty pageants.” Sharon almost choked on her coffee.

“Beauty pageants?”

“Oh, yes; at first he wasn't too sure, but now he loves them, and they've done wonderful things for his self-esteem. He's won a fair few now, and he's so much more confident.”

“Oh, well, that's interesting,” Sharon rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Her little Stanley didn't have problems with confidence or self-esteem, as far as she knew, but maybe this would be good for him? The idea of her handsome little man winning a trophy made her smile.

“Oh, yes! You should give it a try.”

“Maybe I will. Stanley!” she called upstairs. “Stanley!” Loud thudding preceded the boys' appearance. “I was just talking with Kyle's mother, and she told me about the pageants.” Stan kept his face neutral, while Kyle blushed and ducked his head. “How would you like to give it a try?”

“No, thanks, I'm good.”

“Well, alright, it's your decision; if you change your mind, let me know. Perhaps Kyle can give you some tips.”

“I'm good,” Stan repeated, and Sharon nodded. Kyle stared; how come she wasn't pushing him? “But Kyle's doing one this weekend in Denver, can I go with him?”

“If it's alright with Sheila,” Sharon looked over at the woman.

“Oh, it's fine with me,” she said, and the two boys grinned.

“Yay! We haven't hung out in ages!” cried Stan.

* * *

Stan accompanied Kyle, Sheila and Tony to the National Beautiful Heart pageant in Denver. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he saw. These people were _serious,_ even Sheila. _Especially_ Sheila.

Kyle was beginning to regret inviting his Super Best Friend; now Stan would have to watch him practise, and perform in his makeup and hair, and he was dreading it. He still knew that Stan would never tease him about it, but the thought of his friend watching him go through the process of actually competing (especially now that he put effort into it), was embarrassing enough to make him want to sink into the floor.

“Hi, Kyle!”

“Hey, Kyle!”

“Kyle! Good to see you again!”

“Who are they?” asked Stan, as a group of kids greeted the redhead.

“I don't know,” said Kyle honestly. Due to his success, and the fact that he had recently been on a winning streak, meant that he was becoming quite well-known in the pageant world, but Kyle didn't realise this.

Thankfully, Stan seemed to really want to go and explore during rehearsal time, and did not protest when Sheila herded them to bed later, for an early night.

Stan slept in the next morning while Kyle got ready, and only awoke in time to dress before Kyle's age group was set to compete.

When Kyle stepped onto the stage, Stan was shocked; Kyle had been trained to be a performing doll, nothing more. Everything was rehearsed: the smile, the wave, the walk, the turns. He was trained to keep a smile on his face no matter what.

“What has she done to you?” he whispered in horror.

Kyle had a new category; Western Wear, and was in his new outfit; hat, neck tie, plaid shirt, vest, chaps, boots with spurs on them, holsters with toy guns on his belt and a Sheriff badge. He watched as Kyle walked down the runway, spinning the guns on his fingers; seeing the look of concentration in his friend's eyes.

Kyle looked over at his mother, hesitating slightly, before ripping off his Velcro-secured chaps to reveal a set of denim shorts underneath. Stan was sickened when he saw it; even more when that the crowd went wild.

After the crowning ceremony, Kyle came off stage, and ran straight to Stan, avoiding his mother. He'd only won a small medal for “Best Eyes,” no King or Prince, and he knew she would be disappointed. He really did not want her to chew him out in front of Stan.

“Well, it's over,” he joked and Stan looked over at the stage.

“They're still calling names out.”

“That's for the older kids.” Stan didn't understand how the pageant scene worked, but he was going to make a point to go and see Kyle whenever he competed in a Colorado pageant, as it was going to be the most time he would get to spend with his super best friend outside of school.

Kyle ignored the MC as he chatted away to Stan; boys' never won anything outside of their division, and he had stopped listening as the titles were announced long ago. Never-the-less, he and Sheila always stayed until the end of the ceremony, if only to promote good sportsmanship.

The two boys' laughed and joked and groaned at the seemingly never-ending wait for the new Okama Gamespere game to be released when...

“ - Kyle Broflovski!” Kyle was jerked back to reality when he heard the emcee calling his name, and he whirled around, confused. At first, he thought that there had been a mistake with crowning; maybe the awards had gotten mixed up, but then he saw that everyone around him was applauding.

Tony appeared as if out of nowhere and picked Kyle up, running towards the stage. Much to Kyle's surprise, he was placed on the stage as a young lady standing next to a five-foot tall trophy beckoned him towards her.

A sash was placed over his shoulder and a crown atop his head. Kyle wanted to read the sash, to see what title he had won, but the cameras were flashing and he was obligated to smile; he caught sight of Stan looking slightly bemused and his face broke out into a genuine grin and he had to bite back a laugh at the look on his friend's face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, once again, your Novice Supreme winner: Kyle Broflovski!” Kyle stepped off stage to more applause and made his way over to Sheila.

“I can't believe you won a Supreme title!” she gushed. She held out her arms, and Kyle, beside himself with happiness, leapt into them, hugging her tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter 6. I'd love to know what you thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting more serious now. Sheila pushes and pushes Kyle, as she expects him to win big. Kyle, exhausted, can only take so much, as his overbearing mother works him nonstop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone? How is lockdown number two treating you all? I hope everyone is keeping safe and well.  
> The upside of being back in quarantine means I have more time to write, so I can hopefully get my chapters out quicker now.  
> Hope you enjoy reading!

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 7

It had been four months since his Supreme win, and Kyle was absolutely exhausted. He'd not won any major titles since the National Beautiful Heart pageant, and not for want of trying.

At that moment, he was trying to catch a quick nap before evening practise began. On top of the pageants, and the preparation, Kyle was now a regular at the salon; he had his weekly lessons with Tony, his basketball lessons, plus getting measured for clothing, photographs, not to mention keeping on top of his schoolwork, and Kyle felt like he was spreading himself a bit thin.

Sheila wanted everything perfect; with perfection came the titles, she told him.

Too soon, Kyle found himself in the garage, ready to rehearse.

“Are you ready, bubbe?” Sheila asked, hand hovering over the play button.

“Sure,” was all Kyle said, getting into place.

“Remember, we're gonna start aiming for the high titles, okay?”

“I know.”

“Once we get there, then we're there, you know? Once we reach those titles that give cash prizes; that's where we wanna be. Now, get ready.” Kyle set his smile in place as Sheila pressed play, and announced him. “Kyle, remember to look at the judges; look at them.”

“I am.”

“No, you're not; you've got to look at the centre judge; look in their eyes.”

Kyle, too tired to argue, only nodded. As per usual, he thought of things he enjoyed, to make his smile seem genuine. It worked, as Sheila couldn't fault that, but she always seemed to find some other area where he needed to improve. “Head up!” she ordered, watching her son like a hawk, Kyle complying. “Remember, keep the shoulders back. All right,” she paused the music, and Kyle stopped. “Right, listen, we're gonna have to come up with some signals,” she told him. “On stage, I can't shout out to you what you're doing wrong, so signals with help.”

“Okay, Ma.”

“Right,” Sheila said after a while. “When I do this,” she flattened her hand, and placed it under her chin, “that means you lift your chin slightly. Don't make it too obvious; it's gotta be subtle. And when I do this,” she smiled widely, and pointed to her cheeks, “that means your smile's slipping. Again, make it subtle; they'll take points off if it looks fake.” Kyle nodded once again. “Alright, let's do it one more time, and then we'll work on Casual Wear.”

“What's the one this weekend called again?”

“It's the America's Showcase of Beauty in Atlanta, and next month, we have the National Citrus Pageant in Florida.”

“A.. citrus pageant?”

“Mm-hm,” Sheila nodded. “It's a big one, with good prizes. It's a natural one, though, so no make-up allowed, so you make sure you continue with your skincare routine, okay, bubbe?”

“Okay, Ma.”

“Sheila, are you sure this is.. good for Kyle?” asked Gerald that evening, when the kids had gone to bed.

“Of course it is!” she said. “You should have seen how happy he was when he won the Supreme title.”

“But apart from a crown, what is it really giving him?”

“Confidence; I keep telling you. It's improving his self-esteem.”

“But I haven't seen any changes in his confidence levels, or his self-esteem.”

“Well, it doesn't happen right away, you know!” she said sharply. “These things take time.”

“But you've been doing it for over a year! You've sunk, I don't know how much money into this, and for what? A couple of cheap plastic trophies?”

“You don't get it,” she shook her head. “You don't win big right away; no one does. He's working hard, and pretty soon, he'll start winning the kind of titles that award cash.”

“That's not the point -”

“You're the one who brought up money.”

“These sort of contests aren't doing anything for his self-esteem,” said Gerald. “How is letting a group of strangers judge him by the way he looks, helping his confidence?” Selfishly, he wanted Kyle to quit the pageants because, well, it made him feel weird to see his son wearing makeup and posing. It was wrong. Boys didn't wear makeup. Although their town was close-knit, they were also close-minded. If anyone found out about what his kid was doing, they would never let him hear the end of it. He'd be the lawyer with a fairy for a son.

“They do help; if you actually came along, you'd see it.”

“I think they're more for you.” Gerald regretted it as soon as he said it, but it was too late to take it back.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Nothing; I was just saying -”

“You were saying that I was doing this for me? That I don't care about my son? I care _way_ too much; that's why I'm doing everything possible to make him happy! Kyle _asked_ to do this, don't forget. If it makes him feel better about himself, is that so bad?”

“Well... no, but -”

“Then it's settled. Kyle and I will continue with the pageants, and _you_ will keep your nose out,” Sheila nodded curtly, rose, and went upstairs.

* * *

“Dude, you really need a break,” Stan said, when Kyle arrived at the bus stop. “You look exhausted.”

“I do?” Kyle looked to the ground self-consciously.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” Kyle managed to smirk. “Don't worry; as soon as I start winning big, then I can relax.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Okay, then.” They waited companionably for a few moments. “So... do you have any more coming up?”

“Yeah. A big one this weekend in Atlanta.”

“What's it called?”

“I can't remember,” Kyle admitted.

“You look like shit, Kahl,” came Cartman's gleeful voice as he waddled up to them, grinning widely.

“Stop smiling, Cartman; your mouth will never be as wide as your ass,” Kyle snarled.

“Ay! What's your problem? Oh, I know! You were up all night with explosive diarrhoea, weren't you?”

“You been spying on him?” grinned Kenny, joining the group. Cartman pulled a face.

“You couldn't pay me enough to spy on that boring piece of crap, there!” He pointed at Kyle, who only groaned, filled with relief when the bus turned up.

As he climbed on, Kyle caught sight of his reflection in the window. Much as he hated to admit it, Cartman was right; he did look awful. He was paler than usual, and had dark circles under his eyes. He felt a twinge of – was it disgust? – at the sight of himself, as his mother's words ran through his head. _'You need the make-up.'_ She was right, he thought.

After school, Kyle was right back to practise, as he couldn't afford to be rusty, or so his mother said. He didn't think he could handle competing for much longer, and that was why he had to give it his all. Like he said, the sooner he won, the sooner he could stop.

“Come on, energy!” she called, as Kyle ran through his casual wear routine. “You need to keep that energy up!” Kyle focused on focusing and smiling on the imaginary judges, while Sheila called out orders. He didn't bother answering her; that meant he wasn't focusing. “Right, I wanna run something by you,” she said, when he had finished.

“What is it?” He took a seat.

“I was thinking that we could turn the spare room into a trophy room.” Kyle, who had been taking a sip of water, froze.

“Is that.. necessary? I mean, can't we keep them in your room?”

“We have been, but I'm running out of space. Have you forgotten how much you've won already? I think having your own display room would be great. You'd like that, wouldn't you, bubbe?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?” she looked down at him disapprovingly. “You don't want to display all the crowns, trophies, sashes, and all the prizes that we worked so hard for? Or did you just want me to toss them in the trash?”

“No.”

“Well, that's what it seems like to me.”

“No, a – a trophy room would be cool, Ma,” said Kyle, and Sheila smiled. As she walked away, Kyle face palmed; he was in too deep now, and he knew it. He didn't think there was any going back now.

* * *

Kyle yawned as he sat in a hotel ballroom in Atlanta, waiting for his age group to compete. He was sat on one of the chairs as he watched the eight-year-old girls compete in the Beauty section.

“At least we've only got this today,” Jake leaned over and whispered in his ear, and Kyle nodded. He'd met Jake a few pageants previous, and they'd become friends.

“Yeah, at least we can do stuff afterwards,” he said quietly, resisting the urge to scratch his combed, sprayed hair.

Just as before, the ballroom of the hotel was packed, and the audience was cheering loudly for every contestants. Kyle now expected to see parents with badges and T-shirts' with their child's face on, and parents miming their kid's routine behind the judges, and just generally a lot of eagerness, and excitement, and tension. It was just what was expected on the National circuit.

“Kyle, get ready, bubbe,” said Sheila, and Kyle and Jake slid off their chairs, and lined up by the side of the stage.

Even at Nationals, there still weren't that many boys competing; the most Kyle had ever seen was seven in his group, including himself, and so it was easy to recognise fellow competitors, and make friends. “Remember the chin; keep it up, and keep the shoulders back, okay? Keep one eye on me, and watch out for my signals, and remember to keep it subtle.”

“Okay,” said Kyle, as the emcee called for them to line up. He dropped his jaw, and settled into his 'pageant smile,' as he stepped onto stage with the rest of his group.

To his dismay, he was standing next to Alex, one of the best competitors Kyle had ever seen. He was an endless bundle of energy, and played right into the judges hands, winking, bowing, and blowing kisses. His heart sank; he'd never beaten Alex before, and now, he honestly just wanted to quit and go home.

Nonetheless, he smiled out at the judges, letting his mouth hang open, when they had to turn around.

“Please welcome, with a nice round of applause, number two – Kyle Broflovski!” announced the emcee, and the audience clapped and cheered, as Kyle stepped onstage for the beauty round. He smiled brightly, keeping his eyes on the judges, as he walked over to the second X. His turns were smooth, his poses natural, and it was clear to see that he had improved a lot. Kyle was sure to keep his peripheral vision focused on his mother, who was standing behind the judges table, keeping an eye out for her signals.

He saw Sheila place one hand under her chin, and he lifted it slowly and slightly, the way he had been taught. Keeping his smile bright, Kyle salute and pointed to the judges. “Okay, that was contestant number two; Kyle Broflovski! Thank you, Kyle!” The audience applauded and cheered, and Kyle stepped off stage, letting his smile drop.

“Well done, bubbe,” said Sheila, smiling at him. “I think you're finally getting the hang of this.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Kyle tried not to let his surprise show on his face. “Hey, since I'm done for today, can I go see my friends?”

“All right,” she relented, “but don't leave the ballroom.”

“Aw, okay,” he said, before darting into the crowd. He soon became aware of cameras, not small video camcorders like many of the parents used, but huge movie-type cameras, with external lights and microphones. There was a small team of men and women nearby, all of them wearing identical black shirts, and the cameraman had a pair of headphones on. Kyle stopped walking and stared at them, wondering who they were filming. They didn't seem to be focusing on any one particular contestant, and so he shrugged it off, and continued walking through the crowd, soon spotting his friend.

“What are all these cameras for?” he asked Jake, as they lounged on the floor after they'd finished competing.

“Oh, didn't you know? They film “Toddlers and Tiaras” at this pageant,” said Jake, and Kyle looked up at him in horror. Admittedly, he had thought it was an overzealous family supporting their kid.

“What?!” Oh, God, this was bad; this was very bad. “Toddlers and Tiaras” was Cartman's favourite show; if he spotted Kyle... he couldn't bear to think of it. “They don't film us, do they?”

“No,” said Jake, and Kyle relaxed slightly. “Usually, they call you, and ask if you wanna be on there. They do film the whole pageant, and just use the bits they want.”

“Hope they don't use us,” Kyle looked over at the cameras apprehensively. “How do you know this? Were you on it?”

“Yeah, about two years ago. It was all right; they were only with us about a week or two,” Jake shrugged, leaning back on his hands as he watched the competition. “Worst part was school, though; kids teased me.”

“That's why I'll never go on the show,” said Kyle determinedly. Jake only nodded politely, biting back what he longed to say; _'I've seen your mom; if she says yes, then you're going on the show.'_

“It was okay,” Jake confirmed, “they didn't do much of that crazy editing; worst they did was use all that dramatic music, before the competition, when I was getting ready to go on stage.”

“Still, they shouldn't do that at all. It's a kind of clickbait, you know, using angles and music to make people keep watching; it's wrong.”

“Yeah, I didn't like it, either, but it's not like there was anything I could do about it.”

“Couldn't you have told your mom you didn't want to?”

“I could've, but I wanted to be on the show.” At this, Kyle turned to look at Jake, surprised.

“You did? Why?”

“Well, I wanted my friends to see what it was like; they'd never come and watch, you know, and they think that we're basically dressed up like little girls, and things like that. And I thought it'd be cool to be on TV,” he admitted.

“Fair enough,” Kyle nodded. “Do you think it was worth it?” he asked, and Jake paused.

“I guess,” was all he said. Kyle said nothing, and continued to watch the competition, glancing over at the cameras every so often.

* * *

The following day, Kyle and Sheila were back in the ballroom, ready to compete in the Swimwear category. Kyle had yet another new outfit; white swimming trunks, patterned with green and orange palm leaves, and white flip flops. His hair was curly, but still styled neatly.

He tugged on the waistband, trying to be sure that it hid the scar on his back from his kidney transplant. He felt rather exposed and self-conscious.

Before he was called to the stage, Kyle pulled up his shorts once again, before putting on his smile.

“Contestant number two, Kyle Broflovski!” called the emcee, and Kyle stepped on stage. He felt lucky that he didn't really have a proper routine; he just had to strike a pose and a twirl on each X. He did have to walk a bit faster, as his music had an upbeat tempo. As usual, he kept his eyes on the judges, smiling widely. As he walked bouncily down the runway, he subconsciously held his breath, hoping the judges wouldn't notice his scar. It wasn't the fact that he may get marked down, it was the fact that it could be seen, and he didn't want attention drawn to it. Because then they would ask why he had it, and then they would ask why he needed surgery; a kidney transplant, to be precise. And then they would ask why he was diabetic. It was the same old thing every time. Lots of people looked at him weird when they discovered he had diabetes; like it was catching.

Nonetheless, he grinned at the judges, before turning on the spot and facing them again. He clenched his fist under his chin, and tilted his head slightly before making his way back up the catwalk. On the last X, Kyle held out his arms, and turned once again, smiling at the judges. “Give it up for Kyle Broflovski; thank you, Kyle!” Kyle then stepped off the stage, the sound of applause and cheering ringing in his ears.

“That was okay,” said Sheila, as the two of them walked to the back of the ballroom. “It was your first time with this category, so it's nothing more practise can't fix. Right, you'd better get changed for Casual Wear.”

Kyle nodded, and then ran back up to the hotel room to change, Sheila hurrying along behind him.

* * *

Later that evening, Kyle and Sheila were back in the ballroom, ready for crowning to begin. Kyle was back in his tux, and he was sat at the front with Jake, and few other friends. Sheila was sitting with Jake's mum, and they both stopped chattering as the 7 – 9 boys' made their way to the stage. Sheila still thought Kyle was the best looking one up there; even if she wasn't his mother, she would think that. Again, he was the only redhead, which definitely made him stand out.

As per usual, the smaller, divisional prizes were awarded first. Kyle raised his hand as his name was called, and he was given a small trophy for “Best Smile.” Jake won “Best Personality,” and the adorable Alex won King, much to no one's surprise.

When the boys' awards had been given out, they left the stage, and Kyle continued sitting with Jake, chatting quietly. He knew his mother was disappointed with him; he knew she expected him to do better at this point in time. But, the scoring was down to the judges, and their opinion was their opinion.

“Okay, ladies and gentleman, we're going to start awarding our Supreme titles, are you ready?” called the emcee, and the crowd cheered wildly. “Okay, your 0 – 5 Novice Supreme is... Kayla Leigh!” Kyle applauded along with the rest as four-year-old Kayla toddled on up to the stage and was crowned. She stood next to her five foot high trophy, and was handed $100 in cash.

There came a steady stream of winners, ranked from lowest to highest. 6 – 10 Novice Supreme, Overall Novice Supreme, Mini Overall, Mini Overall Supreme. “And the Mini Supreme winner – Kyle Broflovski! Come on up, Kyle!” Kyle's jaw dropped, before he headed up onstage. A sparkling silver crown – his biggest one yet – was placed on his head and a sash was draped over his shoulder, and a wad of dollar bills was put into his hand. Still feeling a bit shocked, Kyle held the money tightly as he smiled for the cameras, and then he was free to go.

Grabbing the five foot trophy; red and gold, and covered in jewels, Kyle stepped off stage and was greeted by his mother.

“Well done, bubbe!” she grinned, and Kyle grinned, too. He arranged the money into a neat pile, and placed it into the envelope he had been given. “How much did you win?”

“250 dollars,” he said, which was quite exciting; his first cash prize. He didn't think he'd ever had so much money. Maybe he could finally get that new computer, or tickets to see Robert Smith in concert?

“Right, I'll take the half of it when we get home,” said Sheila, and Kyle's face fell.

“What? Why?”

“For your college fund.”

“But I already have one.”

“Every little helps, right?”

“But.. I won it,” said Kyle slowly. “Shouldn't I get to choose?”

“Bubbe, it's only half; it's not like I'm taking everything. Besides, it's not 'taking'; this is for your future. You don't want to have a crappy, half full college fund, do you? For God's sake, I'm trying to help you here.”

“I thought you said that my college fund had interest?”

“It does, but that doesn't mean we can't add to it. It doesn't hurt to have a little nest egg, to have some money left over.”

“Okay, Ma,” Kyle held back a sigh, and the two of them went up to their hotel room.

* * *

Back at home, Kyle was getting a bit of rest before his coaching lesson, while his mother cleared the spare room, putting the boxes of stuff they didn't really need up in the attic. Then, after that, shelving and hooks were installed, and his awards were displayed all around.

Privately, Kyle thought the room looked a bit bare; the trophies barely lined one wall, but he soon realised that Sheila probably wanted to room to be full to the point of bursting. Or perhaps she just wanted one Ultimate Grand Supreme trophy. Or both. Kyle didn't know. He didn't know which would be worse.

He wondered if he could keep the door closed (and locked); it was so embarrassing having a room dedicated to his awards.

On the plus side, they were no longer in the living-room, which meant they weren't instantly visible, so he could be thankful for that.

“You're doing so well,” Tony praised, during a quick little break, and Kyle couldn't help but smile. ”None of my boys have won Supreme titles before. Now, since we want to keep you winning them, we're gonna make some changes to your routines.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing major; just some extra steps to really make you stand out. These steps can be used in all your categories, except Beauty – your Beauty one is fine. But Sportswear, Casual Wear, and the others? They could use a little something, you know? A little oomph.”

“What do we do?”

“Well, we'll run through Casual Wear, and I'll tell you when to stop, and we'll add some things, okay?”

Kyle nodded and got into position, waiting for the music to start. When it did, he smiled, and walked over to his first X. As usual, he placed a hand on his hip, and turned, and was just about to continue walking, when Tony paused the music. “Right, stop there for a minute; I think we can add something to that,” he said, walking forward. “Okay, here's what we'll do,” he said after a minute. “When you step on stage, go to your first X, but don't turn; instead, put your right hand on your hip, and turn to your left, and tilt your head back just a little bit. Come on, do it with me,” and Kyle copied him. “Look at the judges, and then nod, and then you can turn around. Let me see you do it.” He watched his young charge, hand on chin thoughtfully. “Hm, it still needs something more. Oh, okay, after you nod at the judges, turn back to the front, and then hold both arms up – no, not all the way, about halfway up, with your palms flat.” Tony watched Kyle attempt it, and smiled patiently. “Imagine you're holding a pizza in each hand,” he moved forward, and adjusted Kyle's arms. “That's it; keep your elbows bent, and your palms flat, and now do your turn. Great! Then bring your arms down, and then lift your hands to place them on your hips. Good; now, walk over to the second X. You can take your hands off hips; that's it, just keep 'em loose. Here, you can just turn, it's fine, and then you walk down the runway.”

Once Kyle had reached the end of the imaginary catwalk, Tony stopped him once again.

“What do I do now?”

“We're gonna change things up here. First...” Tony hesitated, narrowing his eyes, “I want you to.. when you reach the end of the runway, put your hands on your hips and do a half turn, so your back is facing the judges. And then I want you to stretch out your left leg, and point your toe – keep the foot on the ground; good – and stretch out your right arm, so it's pointing up diagonally, and stretch your left arm down diagonally.” He again helped Kyle get the right positions. “And you're gonna quickly do all three of those at the same time; let me see you do it. That's it; remember to keep the moves quick and sharp. Okay, okay; now, as you put arms out, give the wrists a quick flick, like so.” Tony quickly moved his wrists in a small, circular motion, as he stretched out his arms. “It's little things like that that really draw attention to the routine,” he explained. “Okay, so show me that; nice and quick. Okay, not bad, but don't worry; we'll work on it. So, after that, in one quick movement, I want you to bring your left leg in, put your left hand on your hip, and your right one to your head, like you're holding on to the brim of an imaginary hat. Good! Now, bend your knees; a quick little bounce, and turn all the way around to your left to face the judges. Do a little nod. Keep the pose! Don't move your feet; keep 'em crossed, and then turn to your right; all the way around, and face the judges again. Good. Remember your smile. Step out to the left, and then the right, and keep your right hand flat and straight, as you move it across your forehead. No, remember; in time with your other moves. Let me show you quickly.”

Tony planted out his left foot, as his right hand, his elbow raised so his face could be seen, gently touched the left side of his forehead, his fingers flat and straight, like he was saluting. When he repeated the move with his right foot, the hand slid across the hairline. “The trick is,” he said, “when the hand is on the left side of the head, look slightly to the right and vice versa. Like I said, tiny things like that just elevate the whole performance.” Kyle only nodded. “Because when you turn back to face the judges, your feet are still gonna be crossed, so this is why we step out like that; to uncross them. And after that, we need one more thing here...” Tony trailed off again. “We need a pose,” and he turned to Kyle. “What do ya wanna do?”

“I don't know,” said Kyle honestly.

“Alright, maybe you could blow a kiss, or something; we can work that out later. Anyway, once you do that final thing, what you're gonna do is, you're gonna put your hands back on your hips, and start walking forward – that bouncy walk, remember? – and you're just gonna take two or three steps, before you walk in like a tight, little semi circle, and start going back up the runway. Okay, got that? You wanna just do that little part for me, the walk?”

Kyle did so, he got his pageant smile ready, placed his hands where they needed to be, and started walking. Unlike the Beauty section, the other walks were expected to be lively, perky, like they were having fun. You were supposed to make it like you had a spring in your step, and move your arms, as well. For the girls, it was known as the “sassy walk;” thankfully, Kyle didn't have to sway his hips like they did.

He walked forward, keeping his eyes on the pretend judge, and began to walk in a small half-circle. As he did so, he looked over his shoulder, keeping his gaze fixed on the empty sofa, until he couldn't turn his head any further, and then he walked back up the runway.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Very good!” Tony beamed. “I just wanna make one addition; about halfway up the catwalk, do a turn.”

“A turn? Like, I stop?”

“No, no stopping. Just walk, and walk, and then, in quick movement, cross one foot in front of the other and give me a nice, sharp turn. Wanna give it a try?”

“Okay.” Kyle moved back down towards the other end of the living-room, and did his little half-circle walk, and made his way back up the pretend catwalk. At around the halfway point, trying not to slow down, he gave a quick spin, before carrying on.

“That was good,” Tony nodded, “but we'll need to work on it.” Kyle needed to keep both feet on the ground, and his hands on his hips. With his spinning on one foot, he did resemble a rag doll just a little bit, with his flailing limbs. But that was what practise was for. “And then, when you reach this X, this second one, give me a one-and-a-half turn. So, right now your back's facing the judges; we wanna do a quick 360, and then carry on so you end up facing them.”

“Sure.” Kyle gave it a go, but ended up somehow getting his legs tangled together, and he tripped and fell.

“It's alright; it's why we practise,” he grinned, as he helped Kyle to his feet. “I'm gonna show you a little trick. I'll do the turn; watch my feet, okay?”

Kyle stepped back and observed Tony start the routine from the runway walk onwards. At the halfway point, his right foot turned inward and the man turned crisply, ending with his ankles crossed, and he carried on walking. He then quickly hopped onto his left foot, and crossed his right ankle over his left, and gave a full turn. When he had done that, he repeated the same little hop, to uncross his feet, and did a half turn, so he was back facing the front. “Did you see what I did? The hop? That's what I want you to do; great way of preventing your legs all tied up.”

“Okay,” said Kyle, and he went back over to the end of the room.

Pretty soon, he had almost perfected it, and they had filled in that missing move; Kyle would simply place his hands at his shoulder line, and then bring them down and out, like he was presenting his clothes.

“So, these moves will set you up for Casual, Sportswear, Outfit of Choice, and Western Wear,” Tony said after Kyle had run through the routine more times than he could keep track of. “But I think we could step up Swimwear a notch. Talent and Beauty are fine.”

“Wonderful,” said Sheila, getting up from her spot in one of the comfy armchairs.

“The next pageant is National Citrus Model, isn't it?” Tony clarified, while Kyle helped himself to some juice.

“Yeah, it's a natural one, as well.”

“The good thing is, we won't be needing these routines,” said Tony, and Kyle almost spat out his drink. Then why the hell had they wasted a whole lesson learning these moves, if they weren't going to use them? He would have much rather practised the stuff he would be needing for this new pageant.

“Yeah, we're gonna compete in all the optional events,” said Sheila, which was news to Kyle. “The modelling is very simple, isn't it? I couldn't find out much on the website.”

“Yeah, it's just a simple runway, with four X's, and you do one turn on each X. Kyle can do that in his sleep,” Tony smiled, and Sheila nodded in agreement.

“I'm hoping it will help our chances,” she admitted. “The simple modelling, I mean. It's a different system, so we've gotta do what we can, right?”

“Every little helps,” Tony agreed. “Kyle?” he said, and the boy looked up at him. “We've got fifteen minutes left; wanna work on a new move?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I'm gonna teach you how to remove a jacket. That little one-and-a-half turn we did? That's when you'll take the jacket off. Now, since we don't have any of your costumes here, we can just practise with your own.”

“Okay.”

“Right, first I'll teach you how to remove it, and then we'll work on doing it while turning.”

Kyle put on his jacket, but left it unbuttoned, and faced Tony. “It's really very simple; you just grab the lapels, and move your shoulders back, letting your arms go straight.” He and Sheila watched Kyle attempt it; it was okay; the shoulders jerking back needed to be a lot more subtle, and he needed to keep his head still. Still, it was his first try. “The important thing is to not let the jacket fall to the ground,” said Tony, as Kyle bent to pick it up. “The judges will take off points for that.”

“They will?”

“Yeah, so we wanna keep hold of it, and carry it with us.”

“But what if it just slips out of my hands?”

“I have another little trick for that; the moment you feel the jacket go back past your elbows, hold your hands out, like so.” He held his arms straight down, his hands raised up. “The jacket falls onto the hands and stays there.”

“Okay.” Kyle tried the move again, and that time he didn't drop the jacket.

“Great. Then, after you've done that final turn, grab your jacket, try and grab it from the neckline, and swing it over your shoulder, and then go over to your last X. Do another turn – wait, do a half turn, and then look over your shoulder at the judges. Look over your left shoulder, and wink, alright? Then turn to the front, and that's it,” Tony beamed once again.

“I think I got it,” Kyle said honestly.

“You'll get the hang of it,” the coach said kindly. “After Citrus, we're gonna start working on a few more new moves, okay? Don't forget to practise what we did today?”

“Alright,” was all Kyle said, putting on his jacket.

“I'll record myself doing the routine, and then I'll send it to you. Alright? See you next week!”

“Bye.”

“Exciting, isn't it?” said Sheila, during the drive back home. “Just think; none of the other boys have these kinds of routines; they'll really make you stand out.” Kyle only hummed in response. “Bubbe, what's wrong? Don't you like the moves?”

“I do,” Kyle lied. “But shouldn't we be focusing on the one that's coming up, where I won't need them?”

“Kyle, you need to get these moves down, and the more you do them, the sooner that will be.”

“Well, yeah, but...” he trailed off. “Couldn't we have worked on stuff for this next pageant?”

“We don't need to,” Sheila told him. “You won't need any routines for Citrus; all you do is walk normally to every X, and then turn; it's that simple. Were you even paying attention?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, I don't understand why this is confusing for you. We work on these new routines, so that when we go to a new pageant, they're perfect.”

“Okay, Ma.” Kyle regretted even mentioning it.

* * *

Stan, Cartman, and Kenny had become accustomed to hanging out without Kyle. It had been several weeks since Stan had spent any time with him outside of school, and he didn't like it. It seemed that Kyle barely had time to answer his text messages. Stan didn't agree with any of it, but he was just a kid, it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it.

Cartman, of course, was over the moon that the annoying Jew was hardly there to spoil his fun. At last, he was free to do whatever he wanted in peace without Mr Buzzkill ruining everything with his preachy speeches.

The three of them were at Cartman's house, watching television. It felt weird, only having three of them there, but it was even weirder having Butters there, which was why Stan had vetoed the blonde joining them that day. It felt like Cartman was trying to replace Kyle, and he wouldn't allow that to happen. They were the original friend group, and that wasn't going to change (and holding audition for a new friend after Kenny died _didn't_ count).

“Ugh, “Toddlers and Tiaras” again?” he complained, as Cartman switched channels just in time for his favourite show to start.

“What?”

“Can't we watch something else?” It wasn't that the show reminded him of Kyle; it was just that it was a terrible show.

“Hey, if you don't like it, then leave, hippie.” Stan said nothing, but stayed where he was.

As the show went on, he buried himself in his phone, glancing up every once in a while to shake his head at the nonsense playing out on the screen. “Oh, my God! Look, you guys, it's Kahl!” gasped Cartman, and Stan's head whipped up just in time to see a flash of red hair. It was less than half a second, so he wasn't certain, and he really, really hoped that Cartman was wrong.

“That's not Kyle. Just because he has red hair,” said Stan casually, feeling a bit sick. He dreaded to think what would happen if Cartman found out about Kyle's new 'hobby', and his fingers hovered over his keypad.

“No, look! I'll prove it to you guys!” Cartman grabbed the remote and rewound the show, until the back of a red-haired boy appeared on the screen. He turned and Stan and Kenny saw that it was indeed Kyle. Although, the boy was only shown for two seconds, there was no doubt that it was their friend, and Stan's stomach dropped.

Cartman was knelt in front of the television, filming the show with his phone, cackling.

Trying to keep a neutral face, Stan texted Kyle, while simultaneously wondering how he could somehow get hold of Cartman's phone and delete the video. He knew that whatever Cartman was planning, it wasn't going to be good.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

“Why, nothing,” said Cartman sweetly, but Stan knew from experience that his sugary tone didn't mean squat.

“Cartman,” he warned, “don't do anything.”

“What makes you think that I would wanna do anything to my dear friend, little pageant princess Kahl?”

“Cartman, I swear to God, if you say anything about this -”

“Did you know? You did, didn't you?” Cartman's eyes widened with glee. “Oh, my God, you knew he was doing this?! Is that why he's been so busy lately?”

“Give it a rest, fatass,” said Stan sharply. “I didn't know, alright?”

“Yeah, enough already,” said Kenny, though he was shocked at what he had seen. “Go burn off some of that hatred, and take a walk.”

“Don't tell me what to do, you poor piece of crap!” Cartman snapped, waddling back to the sofa. “Surprised you didn't know, Stan; Kahl's your butt buddy, isn't he? I thought he'd tell you.”

“Look, this is probably the first time he's ever done this; why would he tell me?”

“'Cause you two are butt buddies!” said Cartman.

“God damn it, fat ass, get over it!” Stan snapped. Far from being shocked, Cartman was grinning.

“Yeah, you knew about this,” his smile grew wider. “I feel very upset that my good friend Kahl has been keeping secrets from me; makes me feel angry, you know?”

“What are you planning?” asked Kenny, as Stan glanced down at his phone. Still no answer from Kyle, but Stan felt that the least he could do was warn him that Cartman knew. At least then, Kyle could prepare himself.

“Nothing; what do you take me for?” Cartman didn't even try to contain the evil glint in his eyes, and Stan decided to drop it. For the time being, he was powerless.

For once, fate seemed to be on his side, as he noticed that Cartman's phone had slipped out of his pocket, and was now wedged in between the sofa cushions. All he had to do was wait, and he wouldn't have to wait too long.

As predicted, Cartman soon got up, citing the need for more snacks, and as soon he was out of sight, Stan grabbed his phone, and deleted the video. He sighed, before quickly replacing the phone. Kenny opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, when Cartman reappeared.

Now, he could relax.

* * *

Kyle, determined not to let his grades slip, was doing his homework in his bedroom, when a knock came at the door, and his mother entered.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?” he put down his pen, and turned in his chair.

“I've got some good news.”

“What is it?” he asked, noting her pleased expression. Lately, her idea of 'good news' was anything and everything to do with pageants, and so he was wary.

“I just got off the phone with someone, and they offered us something amazing.”

“What?”

“They offered us a spot on “Toddlers and Tiaras”!” she beamed, and Kyle's jaw dropped. “Isn't that great?”

“No!” he cried, and Sheila looked disappointed.

“No? But, bubbe, they asked us; it could be great.”

“Ma, I really don't want to do it.”

“Why not? It might do wonders for you; you might get noticed.”

“Get noticed for what?”

“Some of the kids that have been on that show have been offered modelling contracts! That would be perfect for you.”

“I don't want to do it,” he repeated. “I don't want to be on the show.”

“Kyle, we've only been doing this for just over a year now, and they called _us._ Some of the kids on that show have been in pageants for at least four years! You should be proud.”

“I -” he didn't want to say that he wasn't proud. “I just really don't want to.”

“I think it'll be really good for you.”

“I don't. Being on TV isn't for me.”

“You're actually going to turn this down?” She looked upset. “After all the work we've put in?”

“Mom, we can still do pageants, just not on TV.”

“Well...” she paused, and Kyle waited, knowing that she was trying to get him to agree. “If that's what you want, then fine, we won't do it,” she said eventually, before walking out. Kyle just stared after her. Had she actually given in? He felt weird; that never happened.

Still reeling, Kyle returned to his desk, and pulled out his phone. He saw he had a text from Stan, and he opened it.

 _'Dude Cartman saw u on tv and he knows about the pageants.'_ Kyle's heart almost stopped. What was he going to do? But the most important question was, how did he get on television? His stomach sunk as he remembered the camera crew at Showcase of Beauty; the camera must have got him.

Another text drew him from his thoughts, and he looked back at the phone. _'He got a video of it but I managed to delete it but I wanted to let u know.'_

 _'Thanks dude',_ Kyle texted back, dreading Monday. Knowing that the video had been deleted didn't make him feel any better. Just knowing that Cartman knew about the pageants was enough to make him want to move. He suddenly didn't feel like doing any homework.

The next morning, Kyle braced himself as he approached his friends at the bus stop.

“Hey,” he said, standing next to Stan, as always.

“Piss off, Jew,” Cartman kept his gaze fixed ahead of him, and Kyle stared at him, confused.

“Whatever, fat ass; why don't you try coming up with something original, for once?”

“Oh, you want me to come up with something original? How about this – 'Princess'? It suits you,” he smirked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, Princess.”

“Don't call me that!” Kyle could feel Stan giving him a warning look, but he was past caring.

The bus pulled up, and they all climbed on.

“Calm down, Kahl; can't have you popping a vein, now can we? Wouldn't want to ruin your face.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” snapped Kyle, taking his seat, wishing with everything he had that Cartman would just shut up.

“Why are you being so defensive? Popped veins don't look good, and that's a fact.”

“Why would you even care?”

“Oh, my God. Guys, can we just, please, have one day – _one_ day – where you don't fight or argue?” Stan sighed, pinching his nose.

“I can do that, if Kahl can,” Cartman smiled sweetly. Kyle, in no mood to fight, simply slumped against his seat, remaining silent until they arrived at school.

To his surprise, Cartman left him alone, and didn't insult him in any way. Not that it made him feel better; he knew that Cartman was up to something.

After lunch, it was time for them to present their project, and Cartman asked to go first.

“Go ahead, Eric,” Mr Garrison waved his hand, and Cartman went up to the front of the class, with Butters obediently pulling down the projection screen.

“Thank you, Mr Garrison. I know my project was supposed to be about Thomas Jefferson, but I found someone much more interesting, so I started over. My project is...” Cartman pushed a button on the small remote he was holding, “Kahl.” And a picture of Kyle appeared.

A few of the kids turned to glance at him, but many of them didn't care; the rivalry was nothing new.

“What are you doing?!” Kyle snapped.

“Now, now, Kahl, please don't interrupt; it's so rude. Now, as I was about to say, Kahl Broflovski is just a nine-year-old boy, and like many other boys his age, he has hobbies. Some of these are normal. He enjoys texting, gaming, hanging out with his friends.” As Cartman listed these off, he clicked through a series of photographs showing Kyle doing just that. “But,” he continued, “some people have hobbies that they don't like to share with other people. Maybe they're shy; maybe they're embarrassed.”

Kyle's head snapped up; he knew where this was going, and he stood.

“ _Cartman!”_ He walked up to the front of the class, and tackled the boy, knocking him to the ground. Cartman managed to keep hold of the remote and clicked it, revealing a photo of Kyle being crowned at one of his pageants. _“I'm gonna kill you!”_ he screamed, punching the laughing boy in the face.

“Kahl does pageants!” Cartman yelled, seemingly not caring about the blows being landed on him, and he pressed the button again, revealing another pageant photo.

“Oh, no,” Stan groaned, as laughter began to arise, and the kids stared in amusement at the photos. They were so entertained by the thought of a boy doing beauty pageants, that none of them paid any attention to the full-on fight happening on the floor, which never happened. Fights between Cartman and Kyle were always fun to watch. “They're not real!” Stan cried, unable to see his friend like this. “You know that Cartman is good at Photoshop!” The kids were still pointing and laughing, except for Kenny, Wendy, Butters, and Bebe, though she was staring at the pageant crown with wide, admiring eyes. “Cartman faked them; you know how he likes to annoy Kyle!”

Cartman, though still being viciously attacked, pressed the button one final time, showing the same “Toddlers and Tiaras” clip he had filmed.

This caused the students to erupt in full-blown, finger pointing laughter, and Stan turned to Mr Garrison, only to find the teacher laughing, as well.

Kyle threw Cartman to the ground, and looked up at the class, his cheeks burning. He shook his head once or twice, before running out of the room. “Damn it, Cartman!” Stan snapped, before taking off after his friend.

He ran through the halls; he checked the bathrooms, the library, the broom closets, but he couldn't find Kyle, and so, he headed back to class.

Cartman was now back in his seat, looking very innocent, and the rest of the class were still talking about what they had seen. “The hell is wrong with you, fatass?” Stan hissed as he sat back down.

“What? I'm just sharing his hobby.”

“That's not what you were doing, and you know it!”

“Jeez, Stan, don't get your dick in a twist. What's the big deal?”

“Kyle didn't want people to know for a reason; because he knew you would do this to him!”

“Well, maybe next time he won't be so secretive!”

“You're such an asshole!” he snarled. “How did you even get that video? I deleted it!”

“Yes, I thought you might do that,” Cartman nodded. “That was why I left my cell; I was testing you. I simply watched the episode on catch-up and recorded it then.” He looked way too pleased with himself, and Stan buried his head in his hands.

* * *

Kyle had fled school property, but had not gone home; he didn't want anyone asking questions. Instead, he'd gone to the public library; hardly anyone ever went there, and so he wouldn't be disturbed. He closed his eyes; how was he supposed to go back to school? His mother wouldn't understand, so he couldn't tell her, and his father would be no help at all. Ike had been unusually distant from him, like he was embarrassed to have Kyle as a brother.

Kyle sighed; he really needed to win that Ultimate, and finally quit.

When school had finished, Kyle remained in the library, until he was sure that everyone had gone home. He found Stan waiting outside his house, and Kyle ducked his head, blushing furiously.

Without saying a word, Kyle headed into the house, Stan following him, and they went up to his bedroom.

“Kyle, I never told anyone, I swear,” said Stan, as his best friend flopped down onto the bed.

“I know you didn't,” Kyle nodded. “I know.” He paused, the both of them looking awkward. “How did he find out?”

“After he saw the video, he went online, and did a little digging. They're on, like, the official website. Like I said, I deleted the video, but he just watched the show again, and got it.”

“Right.” Kyle nodded again, cursing his wins.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Kyle admitted. “I have to go back to school, but I really don't wanna deal with that.”

“I'm sure they'll get over it eventually,” said Stan, sitting down next to his friend.

“I can't wait for 'eventually'!” Kyle snapped. “Anyway, I – I can't focus on this right now; I have to practise.”

“Now? School's just finished!”

“Yep, now. Mom says you can never have too much practise,” Kyle slid off the bed.

“Okay,” Stan took the hint, and stood also. “Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Probably not. I'm gonna fake sick.” Stan did a double-take.

“You are? Are you sure your mom will fall for it?”

“She will.” Kyle had never faked being ill before – he got sick enough as it was – but he knew that his mother would keep him off for a few days if she thought he was unwell. The Citrus pageant was that weekend, and they had to be there on Friday, and as it was taking place in Florida, they had to leave on Thursday. They would be flying, but Sheila wanted to get there early to help eliminate jet lag. He knew she wouldn't want to miss the pageant, and so she would do whatever she needed to do to keep him healthy.

“Well, alright, dude; do what you gotta do. See ya.”

“Bye, dude.”

* * *

Kyle's strategy worked; he spent the next two days at home, and soon enough, he, Sheila, and Tony were in Florida, at one of the many Hilton hotels. It was just as chaotic as he expected, and now they were in the ballroom, waiting his turn to practise on the stage. The stage itself was raised a few feet off the ground, with large spotlights lining it. Black sparkly curtains formed the back, with thin drapes of orange, green, and yellow here and there, to bring out the citrus theme. That evening was the talent competition, which was completely separate from the rest of the pageant.

Sheila insisted that Kyle run through his Beauty walk, along with Citrus wear first, as there wouldn't be time after the talent category.

“Remember to keep your head up,” said Sheila, as Kyle stepped onto the stage, looking for the judges' table. He only nodded, and settled into his smile.

Although he was glad that the modelling was simple, Kyle felt even more nervous; this was a huge event, and none of the kids were allowed to wear makeup of any kind. “Okay, good,” she said, when he'd stepped down. “Do you remember what you have to say?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good, now let's go upstairs so you can get changed.”

“All right, Ma.”

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the ballroom; Kyle was in his vest and shorts, along with his sweatbands, and was holding his basketball, and Sheila had his hoop.

It seemed that every contestant was also participating in the talent competition; it was a chance for an extra prize. The ballroom was almost full to bursting point, and that didn't include some of the crazy props some of them had brought.

“Right, you know how to do this, so you don't need to worry,” said Sheila, as his category (ages 7 – 10) began to perform. “Just do what you always do.” Kyle nodded, gripping the ball tightly.

When it was his turn, he walked up behind the emcee, up to the curtain that hid the waiting contestants from view. He saw Sheila approach out of the corner of his eye, and hand the CD to the emcee.

A smiling lady was waiting behind the curtain.

“Hello,” she grinned, and Kyle smiled weakly. “I just need to make sure you're not wearing any makeup,” she said, and pulled out a facial wipe. Having no choice, Kyle only nodded, and she swiped it over his face. “Okay, you're good.” She turned and saw the previous contestant leaving the stage. “Okay, the stage is yours.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said, watching as his mother quickly set up the hoop. He could hear intrigued muttering.

“Please welcome, in the 7 – 10 age division, number four, Kyle Broflovski!” called the emcee, and the crowd applauded. He stepped up on to the stage, and briefly hesitated, before walking out from behind the curtain. Facing the audience, he smiled as his music started to play.

He'd been doing this for so long that it had become muscle memory, and he had learnt long ago to not focus too much. He'd done that in the past, and ended up literally dropping the ball, possibly costing him a high title.

It was easy for him to smile and look happy while he performed his tricks to a cheering audience; he genuinely enjoyed this part of the competition. He was playing his favourite sport, and getting heaps of praise for it, and he'd won awards for it. That was the dream, right?

He kept his smile bright as he reached the end of the catwalk, spotting the judges, and spun the ball on his fingers, and the crowd went wild as usual.

Listening to his music, Kyle went back up the catwalk, and began his jump shots. He was still no good at hearing the beat, or counting in time, but he knew he only had two minutes, and he was pretty good at counting that. “And that was contestant number four, Kyle Broflovski! Thank you Kyle!” Kyle stepped off stage to applause and cheering, panting slightly, while Sheila grabbed the hoop.

“I think that was the best you've ever done it,” she said, as they returned to their seats.

“Thanks, Ma. Hey, can I go and get changed now?”

“No; crowning will start soon,” she said, and Kyle blinked.

“What?”

“This is separate to the actual pageant, remember? So they crown right away.”

“Oh, okay.” Kyle settled back in his chair, and watched the rest of the competition. It was mainly singers and dancers, although there were a few cheerleading routines, and one magician.

Soon enough, the competition was over, and he was back up on stage with the rest of his age group.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your 7 – 10 category! Weren't they great; give it up!” the emcee roused, and the audience whooped and cheered. “This was a tough age group to judge,” he continued, “there were so many good acts. But we have the winner here, and he is... Kyle Broflovski!”

Kyle was actually gobsmacked, as he stepped forward, as everyone clapped for him.

A large red and silver crystal crown was placed atop his head, and a monogrammed sash draped over his shoulder. A large, gold trophy was put next to him, decorated with yellow, orange and green crystals, and a handful of dollar bills was given to him.

As he smiled for the cameras, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. He'd won a national award for his talent; this must mean he was good!

As he stepped off stage, he couldn't stop smiling, and he was still beaming when Sheila approached him.

“Well done!” she grinned, and Tony slapped him a high five, and they walked back to their seats.

“I can't believe I won,” Kyle said, removing the crown; it and the sash were of no interest to him, but the trophy and money were proof of his accomplishments. Sitting down, he counted out the money: $200. No, only $100, he reminded himself, after remembering that his mother would take half. He folded them money up, and placed it in the envelope, concentrating on making it all neat when his mother's voice caught his attention. “What?”

“I said, are you looking forward to it?”

“Looking forward to what? The pageant?”

“No. Weren't you paying attention to the emcee? Each talent winner gets to perform at the crowning ceremony on Sunday!”

“Oh.” He supposed that would be okay. Performing his favourite sport without all the usual pressure? He couldn't see a downside. “Cool,” was all he said.

“Right, we'd better get to bed; we have an early start tomorrow.”

* * *

The following day, Kyle was in the ballroom, dressed in a black T-shirt with a bright orange logo on it – the official Citrus logo, and was also wearing black jeans, waiting to go on stage for his interview. He didn't have any makeup on, and his hair was brushed, but still curly. He was fiddling with his fingers as he nervously chewed his lower lip.

“ _Stop_ that,” Sheila admonished, leaning down over him. “You're gonna make it swollen.”

“I don't think I can do it, Ma,” he admitted, feeling his stomach churn at the mere thought of going on stage.

“What are talking about?”

“I can't do this one; I just can't.”

“Why? This is no different to any of your other pageants; in fact, this one's easier. All you have to do is go to each X and turn.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is the problem?” she asked. Kyle looked over at the stage, his voice failing him.

“Nothing, Ma,” he said eventually.

“Okay, well, it's almost your turn; remember what you have to say?”

“Yeah -”

“Okay, you've only got 45 seconds, so make them count. Speak clearly and loudly, and don't stumble over your words. Make sure your head's up, and you're looking at the judges.”

“Okay, Ma. I have to go on now,” Kyle pointed to one the backstage crew gesturing for him, and Sheila stepped back. He quickly settled his mouth into his 'pageant smile', before realising that he didn't need it for this pageant. He had to be natural.

“Good luck, bubbe.”

Kyle nodded, and stepped onto the stage, and walked down to the third X, hoping his smile looked okay.

“Hello,” smiled the centre judge, a middle-aged man with short blonde hair and brown eyes. “Please tell us your name and your hobbies.”

“My name is Kyle Broflovski. I enjoy playing basketball, swimming, and playing with my friends.”

“What would you like to be when you grow up?”

“I'd like to be a professional basketball player,” he answered, remembering to keep his voice clear and loud, but not too loud, and making eye contact with each judge, just the way he had been taught.

“And what is your favourite thing to do?”

“My favourite thing to do is play with my little brother.”

“And what has been your greatest accomplishment?”

“My greatest accomplishment would be overcoming my stage fright to do pageants,” Kyle reeled off from memory.

“Okay, thank you very much, Kyle.”

“Thank you, judges.” Kyle nodded politely, before turning and walking off stage. As soon as he was out of their eyeline, he suddenly found that his legs were shaking a little bit. He was more nervous for this pageant than he had been for anything in his life, because he wasn't allowed to wear makeup. His bare face wasn't good enough to win; if it was, then he wouldn't need makeup; even his own mother had said it. If he didn't win a decent title here, she was going to be very unhappy.

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it?” said Sheila, as they headed back to their seats. “I don't know what you were so worried about. This will be the easiest pageant; the modelling is so simple, you can do it in your sleep!”

The following day, Sheila, Kyle, and Tony were back in the ballroom, as the crowning ceremony officially began. Kyle had already performed his basketball routine to a very appreciative audience, and when he'd finished, Sheila had made him change back into his black jeans and black Citrus T-shirt. Certain that he was going to win a high title, she wanted him to look decent for the cameras.

Kyle was feeling rather frazzled. True, the modelling had been simple, just like his mother had said, but he felt extremely anxious, and he was dreading how disappointed Sheila would be when he didn't win, because he knew he wasn't going to.

His age group had already gone up for awards, and he'd won a medal for “Best Smile,” but hadn't won King.

Chewing on his lip again, Kyle began to nervously tap his feet, wanting it to be over already.

“Stop that,” Sheila leaned down, keeping her eyes on the stage. “People can hear you.” Kyle stopped, but then he began to swing his legs. At least that made no noise. He could hear Sheila and Tony talking quietly to one another – about what a tough competition it was, how they were only giving out two major titles; one Overall Winner for the 0 – 6 group, and one for ages 7 and up, and so it was going to be very difficult. Kyle only had one chance, and it was a very slim chance.

“The prizes are amazing here,” he heard Sheila say. “I mean, the opportunities alone could be great.”

“And now, our first Overall Winner...” began the emcee, and you could have heard a pin drop. “Can I get a drum roll, please?” he called, and the audience instantly began drumming their hands on their knees. “Your 0 – 6 Overall Winner is... Georgina Matthews!” The audience erupted as little five-year-old Georgina toddled up onto the stage and was crowned. “Well done, Georgina!” praised the emcee as the girl was photographed. “Okay, we have our second Overall Winner here,” he held up a small card. “First off, I wanna congratulate all of our wonderful contestants here; haven't they been great?” he enthused, and the audience applauded once again. “Okay, the scores have been tallied, and your Overall Winner for the 7 and up age group is... Kyle Broflovski!”

Kyle, who had been too worried to pay attention, heard his name be called, and he looked up. Sheila was on her feet, being hugged by numerous other parents, while Tony had grabbed his hand, and was taking him to the stage. The entire room had erupted in cheering and clapping, and Kyle stepped on stage, and stood on the X at the end of the catwalk.

As he tried to figure out exactly what was going on, a flurry of activity surrounded him. A large silver crown decorated with orange and green jewels was placed on his head, and an embellished sash was placed over his right shoulder.

Still feeling quite confused, Kyle managed to remember to smile as a fur-lined velvet robe was draped around his shoulders, and he was handed a bouquet, a sceptre decorated in little crystals, and a large wad of dollar bills. A five-foot tall golden trophy, decorated very similarly to his talent one, was placed next to him, and the cameras flashed as the crowd cheered. “Ladies and gentlemen, your 7 and up Overall Winner: Kyle Broflovski! Give it up for Kyle!”

Weighed down by everything, Kyle clumsily got off stage, where Sheila and Tony were waiting for him.

“Bubbe!” Sheila hugged him tightly. “Do you realise what you've done?” she asked, her arm around him as they walked back to their seats. She was holding the trophy and the bouquet, while Kyle kept hold of the money and the sceptre.

“No.”

“Bubbe, you beat everyone here except for one person. Look at all this!” she gestured to the crown and trophy. “Look at that crown; it's like it was custom made for you!” she gushed. “But that's not all!” her eyes began to gleam, and Kyle that familiar sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“What?” he dared to ask.

“You get a modelling contract!” she cried, and Kyle's heart sank.

“Oh, really? That's cool,” he lied.

“Isn't it? Of course, it doesn't mean they'll sign you – but they'd be crazy not to – but the contract from one agency is available, and then there's a contract for another agency, and you get to be interviewed for another contract with another agency; isn't that exciting?”

“Sure.” Kyle hoped he sounded interested.

“And there's even more; you get free entry to two National pageants, and a complimentary professional photo shoot, _and_ you get to be in the official Citrus parade!”

“Wow. Sounds great, Ma.” Kyle swallowed hard, staring straight ahead, even forgetting to count the money.

“So, how much did you win?” she asked, and he looked down at the money in his hand, and he began to count it.

“$1,000?!” Now there was expression in his voice. “Wow!”

“Remember, bubbe -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know; you take half.” Kyle realised what he had done, but it was too late to take it back.

“Kyle!” she looked shocked. “What's with the attitude? You know I'm only doing this to benefit your future!”

“I know, Ma,” said Kyle quickly, not wanting her to chew him out in front a huge ballroom, packed with tonnes of families. “I'm just tired, I'm sorry.”

“Well, we'd better get to bed, anyhow; we're flying home tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Great job today, Kyle,” Tony grinned, rising and stretching.

“Thanks,” the boy smiled. He and Sheila said their goodnights, before heading up to their room.

“By the way, bubbe,” Sheila asked, as she stood in front of the mirror, removing her makeup, “when are you going to actually start looking happy when you win?” Kyle, in the middle of double-checking the contents of his suitcase, looked up at her.

“I wasn't expecting it; I was a little bit shocked, that's all,” he said honestly.

“You shouldn't be shocked by now; you win more often than not.”

“I just wasn't expecting to win here; there was a lot of tough competition.”

“I know, but you have to have confidence in yourself. That's part of why we do these contests, so you should have some by now. You've got to get rid of that silly, deer in the headlights look, okay?”

“Okay, Ma.”

“Good. Now go to sleep; we have an early flight.”

Not being used to warm weather, Kyle found it hard to sleep. He lay awake for hours, feeling as though there were snakes writhing around in his stomach, but he didn't know why. All he knew was that he was dreading going back to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done. What did you think? I'm hoping to keep future chapters at around this length, so I can put in more detail.


	8. Chapter 8

Kyle, the Pageant King

Chapter 8

“Your Novice Supreme is... Kyle Broflovski!”

“Your Amateur Supreme – Kyle Broflovski!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this year's Overall Supreme, number 18, Kyle Broflovski!”

“Once again, give it up for Kyle Broflovski, your National Photogenic Supreme!”

Once again, Sheila was right; once Kyle started winning the high titles, there was no stopping him. Again and again, his name was called, and he would come up on the stage, and smile graciously as he was crowned, and given trophies, sashes, and sometimes money.

Sheila was actually disappointed at all these titles; Kyle had won one of only two major titles in a prestigious National pageant, and for him to win things like Mini Supreme, Mini Overall, which were the lower Supreme titles, felt like a huge step backwards for her.

She channelled her frustrations into Kyle's routines, making him practise over and over again.

“You have got to get these routines down,” she repeatedly told him. “Look at the judge! Judge, judge!” she added quickly, as Kyle stood at the end of the pretend catwalk. “Come on! You should know what you're doing by now!”

All Kyle could do was keep on going, doing what he was told. The sooner he did that, the sooner practise would be over.

Truthfully, he kind of welcomed the relentless practising; the more time he spent at home, the less he was around others, and therefore less likely to be teased for his new “hobby”. The rest of the kids in his class never passed up an opportunity to tell him how hilarious they found the idea of him competing in pageants was. It was all just one big joke to them, and Kyle had had enough, and now spent all of his free time at home. It meant spending countless hours in the garage running through his routines, but it was better than the alternative.

One evening, after he had finished for the day, Kyle sat on the sofa, absent-mindedly scrolling through Facebook, and he heard his mother talking on the phone in the kitchen. He frowned as he received yet another text from Cartman.

_'How is the Princess doing today? My little Jewish Princess boy XD'_

His jaw clenching, Kyle deleted it, as he did for practically every message Cartman had been sending him lately. Kyle rubbed his head, squirming at the headache that had just appeared. He'd been getting those a lot lately, too, and a lot of stomach aches. He didn't tell anyone about these, not even his mother; why would he? Everyone got headaches; he was no exception.

He heard Sheila stop talking, and then she entered the living-room.

“Who was on the phone?” he asked, removing his hand from his forehead.

“Just someone,” was all she said, looking at him, then at the television. “You better get to bed, it's late.”

“Okay,” Kyle slid off the sofa, doing his best to keep his face neutral.

“Don't forget to brush your teeth,” she said, holding out her arms for a hug.

“I won't, Ma,” Kyle hugged her, burying his face into her abdomen, revelling in the darkness it brought.

“Good. And don't forget to exfoliate and moisturise,” she said, and Kyle, who had already pulled away, stopped.

“Can't I just skip it tonight? I'm tired,” he lied. Sheila looked aghast.

“No, you can't skip it,” she told him. “If you skip one night a week, then next you're gonna end up skipping two nights a week, and before you know it, you stop doing it altogether. No, you do it tonight, and every night, okay?”

“Okay,” Kyle sighed.

“I'm only doing this to help you,” she reminded him, and Kyle only nodded. “Off you go, then; you have school tomorrow.” Kyle nodded again and trudged off to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, and washed his face, using the special sponge Sheila had bought for him, before massaging moisturising cream into his skin. He did it as quickly as possible, just wanting to go to bed, hoping that a good night's sleep would help him feel better.

Teeth and face clean, he headed to bed, pulling the blanket up over his head, his head pounding.

* * *

“Good moooorning, Princess!” Cartman grinned when Kyle arrived at the bus stop the next morning.

Kyle, tired and still suffering with a raging headache, could only find the strength to roll his eyes, surprising the other three boys.

“Dude, you okay?” asked Stan.

“It's fine, guys,” said Cartman, “he just doesn't like his new nickname. Which do you like better, Kahl? Princess, or Queen? Or JonBenet?”

“Don't care,” Kyle muttered, rubbing his forehead once again.

“Hm, I can't decide; I guess it'll have to be all three,” Cartman smirked. But Kyle only stared straight ahead, and the fat boy frowned slightly. “Hey. Hey, Kahl, what do you think of being called Princess Queen JonBenet? Huh? Is it annoying you, Princess Queen JonBenet?”

“Dude, fuck off,” Stan moved closer to Kyle. “You all right, man?”

Kyle shook his head slightly, and turned to face his best friend.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.”

“You seemed outta it for a moment, there.”

“Yeah, I just got a headache, is all,” said Kyle truthfully, and Stan nodded.

“Alright, children, let's take our seats.” Mr Garrison strode in late as usual, ignoring the fact that the kids were all already seated. He approached his desk, and began rifling through the papers on it. “I hope everyone's completed the homework I set for you. All except Kyle..” Mr. Garrison started to snigger, “who has an excuse.” Kyle's jaw clenched again and he stared at his desk as, again, laughter began to arise from around him.

“I did the homework,” he growled, gripping the paper so hard he was surprised he didn't tear it, silently fuming. How much longer was he going to have to put up with this?

“Oh, great,” Mr Garrison grinned, as the laughter died down to snickers.

“Yeah, Kahl, it's nice that you took the time from putting on makeup and posing to do your homework,” said Cartman, and the laughing started up again.

“Fuck you, Cartman,” Kyle growled, hardened gaze still fixed on the desk.

“All right, all right,” Mr Garrison waved his hand. “I could do this all day, I really could, but you guys have a pop quiz on Friday, so you need to focus.”

The kids groaned, and finally quietened. None of them made any further remarks to Kyle, who kept his eyes down. “Okay, children, who can tell me what a complex sentence is?” asked Mr Garrison, who was now standing in front of the blackboard, chalk in hand. He turned to face the students.

“Maybe we should ask Miss America over there,” Cartman pointed to Kyle, before bursting into hysterical laughter, as did a few of the others.

“Fuck you, fatass!” Kyle hissed.

“Damn it, Eric, I don't want to get a call from Kyle's mother, so keep your mouth shut!” the teacher snapped, and Cartman immediately stopped laughing. He angrily folded his arms.

“That damn Jew bitch is always spoiling my fun!” he complained, but Mr Garrison ignored him.

When it was break time, Stan approached Kyle, who was still in his chair.

“Dude, you okay?” he asked again, and Kyle lifted his head.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I'm fine,” said Kyle, but Stan wasn't convinced.

“Dude, you can't fool me; I know you too well. What's wrong?”

“I'm just not feeling too great,” he admitted. “You know, I think I'm gonna go to the nurse.”

“Why? What's the matter?”

Kyle had to smile a bit at Stan's concerned face.

“It's nothing, dude; just a headache. Maybe she can give me something for it.”

“All right, then. Do you need me to come with?”

“Sure, if you want.”

The two boys left the room, and walked down the halls. Stan just prayed that none of the kids would say anything to Kyle, or that they wouldn't bump into Cartman; it was the last thing they needed.

He waited while Kyle sat on the bed in the nurse's office, a place that the redhead spent far too much time in, and waited for the nurse.

“Well, what seems to be the problem?” she asked, looking him up and down. “You look fine.”

“I have a bad headache,” Kyle told her. “Can you give me anything?”

“I can give you some Tylenol,” she said, before looking at him more closely. “Actually, you do look a little peaky,” she observed. “I think you should stay in here for break.”

“Fine,” Kyle shrugged, not really caring either way. At least in here, he couldn't be harassed.

“I'll stay with you,” Stan volunteered, taking a seat next to bed, and Kyle smiled at him. The nurse, fully aware of their closeness, only nodded, and left to get the medicine.

Kyle lay back on the bed, pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes, breathing in a small sigh of relief at the darkness. “Dude, I'll say it again; you really need to quit,” said Stan, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah,” he agreed, not even bothering to say that he couldn't afford to take a break. He was on another winning streak, and he knew that his mother wouldn't allow him to potentially ruin that.

“So, are you gonna tell your mom?” Stan asked, and Kyle smiled lightly.

“The season ends in about a month or so; then we take a break,” he informed his friend, hating the fact that he actually knew this stuff.

“What?”

“Each year is like a season, right? Around August, they stop, and start back up again in September, kinda like school.” It was only partly true; there were at least three National pageants that ran all throughout the year, and Sheila was of course going to enter him in those.

“Oh. Okay. Well, at least you get breaks,” Stan shrugged. He supposed that was better than nothing, but his face said it all.

“Look, dude, I just have a headache because I didn't sleep well last night, that's all,” said Kyle, sensing that Stan wanted to say more. “It's just a one time thing.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, deciding to keep quiet. All he could do was support Kyle and hope that he didn't burn himself out.

He hoped that, soon enough, he would be able to hang out with Kyle more; hearing that there would soon be a break in the competing gave him hope. Of course, travelling across several States to watch Kyle compete was always an option, as he had done so before, but he just found the whole thing too creepy. It made Stan feel very uncomfortable to watch, and he would much rather play and chat with Kyle, rather than watch him walk around on stage, a plastic smile on his face.

Again, all he could was be a friend, and that meant being there.

* * *

Later that evening, the Broflovskis had just finished dinner, and the family had broken off to go and do their own thing. Gerald had retreated to his office, and Ike had gone to his room to continue gaming. Kyle was just about to go to his own room when the doorbell rang.

“Kyle, can you get that, bubbe?” called Sheila, who was busy washing the dishes.

“Sure,” said Kyle, wishing he could just hide upstairs; he just knew that Cartman was at the door. He was surprised to find Bebe standing there, and she was smiling at him.

“Hi, Kyle,” she chirped, grinning sweetly.

“Uh, hi.” He was confused; Bebe never came to his house, and he started to maybe think that she was playing some kind of trick on him. His eyes quickly darted around, but he couldn't see anyone hiding. Maybe they were just too well hidden.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” she asked, and Kyle stood aside to let her enter.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I came to ask about the homework?” Kyle noticed that she wasn't looking at him; rather, she was scanning the walls of the living-room, her neck craning.

“Homework?” Since when did Bebe care about homework? And since when did she come to his house to ask about it? Something wasn't right.

“Yeah, like, I totally wasn't paying attention, and I don't know what the homework is, can I read your notes?”

“Uh -” Kyle barely had time to comprehend this, before Bebe began walking around the living-room.

“Where's your backpack?” she called, looking behind the sofa, while a very confused Kyle looked on. He had no idea what was happening, even as she ran upstairs. “Is it in your room?” came her voice, and Kyle followed her. He entered his room to find Bebe searching it.

“It's, uh, it's -” he headed towards his backpack, but Bebe had already left the room. Again, he followed, wondering just what she was doing. He opened his mouth, but didn't get a chance to speak, as he saw her head into his parents' room. “You can't go in there!”

“But I need to find your backpack!” she insisted, making Kyle even more confused.

After a quick, cursory search of his parents' room, she left, and went back into the hallway. Kyle saw the door she was headed to, and his stomach churned; the trophy room.

“You don't wanna go in there!” he practically leapt in front of the door, and tried to lead her away, but Bebe wasn't having it, and flung the door open.

“Wow,” she breathed, her eyes gleaming at the sight of all the crowns and small trophies, which rested on newly built shelves, with poles underneath that displayed his sashes. His larger trophies were stood against the walls, and his plaques were mounted high above the shelving. “Let's, uh, let's worry about the homework later,” she stepped further into the room, grinning widely.

“I'll give you the notes tomorrow.” Kyle tried to pull her out of the room, but she wouldn't budge. He cringed internally as she walked up to one of the shelves displaying his crowns.

“These are really something, you know?” Her eyes never left the jewels and crystals decorating the crowns, and she reached out to gently touch a trophy.

“You really shouldn't be here; I'm not supposed to have people over,” Kyle lied, his hand gripping the door handle.

“I won't be long,” she assured him, examining the sashes.

Kyle gulped and looked around the room; the crowns and trophies seemed to be laughing at him, but he couldn't help but look at the sashes and read the titles he'd won. “Mini Mr Colorado,” “Prince Charming USA”, “Citrus King”, “Best Dressed”, “National Portfolio”, and "Overall Personality” to name a few. Kyle quickly counted them, his stomach dropping when he realised that there was more than thirty individual awards. He didn't realise he'd done that many competitions. Okay, some of them were from the same pageant; usually the smaller divisional trophies, but lately, he was getting the big trophies.

“Bebe, I'm really not allowed to have people over,” he said, taking a step back and looking down the hallway. It was empty and he sighed in relief. Turning back, he saw that Bebe was wearing one of his biggest crowns, and she'd draped one of his sashes over her shoulder, a bejewelled sceptre in the crook of her arm.

“What do you think?” she grinned, looking around the room at her imaginary audience, while Kyle stared in horror. “This crown is really heavy, how do you do it?” She was wearing one of his Supreme crowns, which tended to look more like tiaras, in terms of appearance, albeit several inches high, and he could see why she'd chosen that one. It was at least ten inches high, silver, and decorated with silver jewels and edged with gold. The name of the pageant “Glamorous Beauties” was written in black jewels along the base.

“Uh, it's uh -” but Kyle was quickly cut off by the excited Bebe.

“It's so pretty!” she gushed. “I have the exact perfect pair of shoes to go with this! What did you win it for, by the way?” She wasn't even looking at him, far too absorbed in looking at the rest of the crowns.

“Um, Portfolio,” Kyle muttered, and she turned to face him.

“Portfolio? Like, pictures?” she asked, and Kyle nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. “Wow, so you can really win a prize for everything, can't you?”

“Yeah.”

Bebe's eyes gleamed again, and she began to slowly walk the length of the room, waving and blowing kisses, while Kyle stood there awkwardly, watching. She couldn't keep her hands off the crown, and she kept twirling the sceptre between her fingers.

“You've won a lot,” she observed after a while, stopping her imaginary catwalk to continue staring at the trophies. “You must be good.”

Kyle said nothing, instead biting back the bitter remark that at least it was proof he wasn't the ugliest boy. He tried not to think about that; whenever he did, it put a dampener on his whole day. “These crowns are so gorgeous,” she was practically drooling. “I can't believe you get to wear them whenever you want.”

“Well, I don't,” said Kyle. “I don't care about them.”

“No?” Bebe faced him. “Why not?”

“Because I don't,” was all he said.

“Huh.” She pulled the crown from her head, and held it up to her face, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Well, that's a shame; I think they're amazing. It must feel great when you win.”

“I suppose,” Kyle sighed, just wanting her to leave.

“What?” She lowered the crown and stared at him. “I would love to win a crown like this!”

“Well, then, you enter a pageant,” said Kyle shortly.

“Oh, I never thought of that,” she said honestly. “Well, I don't think I could. But maybe, if you don't like these crowns, you could donate them? Perhaps to some kids who would get a lot of use out of them?” she hinted, practically hitting him over the head with her subtlety.

“They're – well, uh, my mom knows how many there are, and she'll know if one disappears.” Frankly, Kyle couldn't care less about the crowns; he considered them more Sheila's than his; it was her idea, after all. But he knew she would flip if ever got rid of any of them. “I'm sure you can buy crowns online,” he said, and Bebe's eyes lit up again.

“Ooh, you're right!” she grinned. “Every girl needs a crown, wouldn't you agree? I mean, it's every girl's dream to be a princess, and to wear all these gorgeous clothes, and have everyone stare at you...”

Kyle zoned out as she prattled on, wondering if he could convince her to put on a red wig and take his place in the American Beauties and Cuties pageant that weekend. Bebe definitely wouldn't mind, and he was sure his mother wouldn't see through the disguise, paper thin though it would be.

Before he could fully commit to the idea, Bebe was carefully placing the crown, sash and sceptre back on the shelves and rail, and was taking a last, longing look around the room. “Well, I suppose I'd better get going,” she sighed, her eyes lingering on the crowns.

“Okay.”

Eventually, Bebe left the room, walking as slowly as she could, and kept looking back over her shoulder.

“Hey, thanks again for the help with the homework,” she said at the door, a far off look in her eye. Kyle didn't bother replying, knowing that she was far too caught up in her fantasies. “See ya!” she beamed, before skipping away.

Closing the door, Kyle leaned against it, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

* * *

On that Saturday morning, Kyle walked through the halls of the Holiday Inn hotel in Austin, Texas with Jake, chatting animatedly. They were both competing in the National American Beauties and Cuties pageant, and were dressed in their tuxes, with their hair and makeup already done. Kyle felt so relieved that he had makeup on; he still hated wearing it, but it covered up all his flaws, and if the judges couldn't see his flaws, then they would score him highly. The higher the score, the bigger the title, and that meant with each win, he was closer to quitting. Of course, then he hated himself for being relieved about wearing makeup.

Kyle was wearing his new tuxedo jacket; white, with emerald satin lining the lapels and jacket pockets, just like his old one. But this jacket was styled to look like a tailcoat, and he also had on an emerald green cummerbund. The style looked a lot cleaner than his old jacket, and the new cummerbund helped to draw even more attention to his eyes.

Sheila and Tony had also made some minor changes to his routine for the beauty round, despite Tony previously saying that he didn't need to. Now, Kyle would just smile at the judges and turn on the first X, rather than posing. When he would reach the end of the catwalk, he would take a moment to make eye contact with the judges, before doing a turn, and then he would blow a kiss, and tilt his head. From then on, the routine remained the same.

There weren't any major differences, and so Kyle hadn't found it too hard to memorise the new routine.

It was swelteringly hot, and he was extremely grateful for the air conditioning. All around them, pageant kids and their families darted around, some of the kids in their formal wear outfits, the mothers chasing their daughters with hairspray and lip gloss. It was chaotic as per usual, and the sound of excited shrieking, laughing, and chattering could be heard throughout the hotel.

Kyle stopped to examine some posters hanging above a potted plant. Nothing too interesting, just advertising a few plays at the local theatre, and some upcoming art shows. Nothing to catch his eyes, and so they continued walking.

He was very glad his mother was beginning to loosen up a tiny bit, and allowed him to walk around and explore before the pageant started. They had at least thirty minutes before his age group were due to be called, and Kyle was determined to back in good time. If he could prove that he could be trusted, then Sheila would give him more leeway.

She appeared to have realised that giving him a bit of time to relax and release a little bit of energy would help him in the long run. Kyle had to admit, it was nice to just walk around freely, without his mother or Tony following him, constantly reminding him to keep his head up and shoulders back, remember to not let his smile slip, always fussing with his hair or his clothes.

He didn't know whether it was Tony who had gotten Sheila to back off a little bit, but he was grateful; now he didn't feel so tense when he was waiting for his turn to perform.

“Are you gonna get Pixie Stix?” asked Jake as they entered the large, modern looking lobby. He'd spotted a table, near the room where the pageant was being held, whereupon dozens of Pixie Stix were resting, waiting to be sold. Mothers usually fed them to their kids to give them the energy needed to go on stage.

“Nah; I don't really like them,” Kyle lied.

“You don't? I love them,” Jake approached the table and bought two. He offered one to Kyle, who only shook his head.

“We don't need 'em,” he said honestly. “We don't have to do as much as the girls.”

“Yeah, you're right,” said Jake, as the two of them loitered outside the ballroom, where mellow pop music and cheering could be heard. “But I like to have the extra boost, especially if I wanna win King.” King was the best he could hope for. Now that Kyle was off winning the Supreme titles, Jake and the other boys actually had a chance at winning King.

“Kyle!”

Kyle looked over to see a girl about his age running up to him, dressed in her jewelled cupcake dress and shiny white shoes, her hair in rollers. “You're here! I've missed you!” she cried, hugging him.

“Um, thanks?” he awkwardly returned the hug, not recognising her.

“It's me, Brianna,” she explained, letting go of him, and taking a step back. “We met at the National Kings and Queens of America pageant?”

“Oh, yeah! Hi,” he smiled at her, and she smiled back. “I also saw you at Regal Gems, as well, didn't I?” he asked, and she nodded.

He felt bad for not recognising her without all the makeup she usually had on. It was a shame, really, because she really didn't need it, he thought, as she turned around for him.

“Do you like my new dress?” she asked. “Mommy had it special made; I love the roses on it, and all the little gems and crystals. What do you think?”

“It's really nice,” said Kyle honestly, taking in the large, crystallised roses decorating the sweetheart neckline, and the bodice that sparkled with silver jewels. Even though he was ignorant of such things, the new, slightly darker shade of pink complemented her skin much better than her previous pastel dress.

“I'm glad you like it,” she beamed at him, her voice slightly breathless, playing with the stiff edges of the skirt. “I wanna wear it every day.”

“Wouldn't you get sick of it after a while?”

“I don't think so. You know, I think you'll win something big today,” she told him. “You're good.”

“Thanks,” said Kyle politely. She did this to him every time she saw him, but he didn't really mind; he liked her boundless energy. She always greeted him with a hug, as well. He didn't really mind it; in fact, it was quite nice. “I think you'll win something big, as well. You're really good, too.”

“Aw, you're sweet. Well, I gotta go; I gotta get into hair and makeup. But I just wanted to show you my dress. I lost another tooth, so I use a new flipper now.” Brianna pointed to her missing tooth, before darting down the hallway. “See ya!” she cried over her shoulder.

“You know, if she falls, that dress will make her spring right back up,” said Kyle, and Jake laughed.

“It would be a lot easier if we had that. Last time, I was running and I fell over, and got my knees dirty, and my mom was annoyed because she couldn't get them clean in time before I had to go on stage.”

“Oh, man, that's gotta suck,” said Kyle sympathetically. “I don't wanna imagine what my mom would do.” He tried to chuckle, but the knowledge that Sheila would be very, very unhappy with him made the laughter die on his lips.

The two of them entered the ballroom, and stood near the door, watching the pageant, where the six-year-olds were competing in the Beauty category. After a while, they walked down the side of the room, towards the front, and found some chairs, where the other waiting contestants were sat. As they passed Sheila and Tony, she caught his eye and tapped her wrist, indicating that he should keep an eye on the time, to which Kyle nodded.

“Hey, Kyle,” several kids, mainly girls, but a few boys, greeted him with a smile, which Kyle returned politely. He knew pretty much all of the boys, due to the small number that competed regularly, but there were so many girls, he couldn't keep track of them all. He only knew Brianna because she'd been hanging around him a lot.

One of the boys had some small toy cars, which he shared with Kyle and Jake, and the three of them began to run them over the chairs, racing one another. A few other little kids nearby were laying on their stomachs, colouring, waiting for their turn.

“Hey, check this out,” Kyle pulled his phone from his pocket, and showed Jake a video compilation of animal 'fails'. Okay, they were cheap laughs, but the video was amusing, and they enjoyed watching it. Looking to pass the time, they watched more videos, quickly becoming engrossed in the screen.

Soon after, Kyle was tapped on the shoulder, and looked up to see his mother.

“You'll be getting ready to line up soon,” she said, holding her hand out for his phone, which he gave to her. He and Jake stood, waiting for the emcee to call for their age group. The two boys stood near the wall, and Sheila and Tony approached Kyle, while Jake's mother came up to her son.

Sheila began adjusting Kyle's tux, making sure it looked neat and tidy, while Tony checked to make sure Kyle's hair and makeup looked perfect. Kyle just stared ahead, wanting them to just stop and leave him alone. “Remember,” Sheila bent down and muttered into his ear, “when you're on your first X, take the time to spot the judges. Remember to keep the turns smooth, and your smile bright. Keep an eye out for my signals, and keep your back straight. And...”

Kyle looked down at the ground as she went on and on, as if he hadn't heard it all a million times before. Biting the insides of his cheeks, he took a deep breath, hoping for the nausea to die down.

It wasn't until he was due to go on stage that they left to go and watch from the audience.

“Hey, Kyle!” Brianna plopped down next to him after the Talent round, beaming. “You did great in Talent today. Well, you always do, but today was really good.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, resting his basketball on his knees. “You were great, too; you're a really good dancer.” He wasn't just saying that to be polite; Brianna was a very talented dancer, doing all sorts of impressive flips and spins on the stage, which had the audience on their feet.

“Thanks!” Brianna swung her legs happily, the spangles on her shorts jingling. “I've been disco dancing like this since I was three, and I also used to do dance competitions, too, but I can't do dance and pageants.” .

“Why not?”

“Not enough time to do both,” she shrugged, itching her eye, taking care not to get glitter on her fingers. “There's too much practise. Hey, will you teach me to spin the ball on your finger, like you do?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Really? It's so cool how you do it!” Her eyes wandered to the basketball nestled on his lap.

“It's hard to learn, but you can with practise,” he said. “I don't think you could do it with those nails, though,” he pointed to her French manicure, and Brianna giggled.

“It must have taken you ages to learn. I guess we'll have to do it after a pageant, 'cause that's when I can take my fake nails off,” she said, and Kyle nodded. She reached up into her mouth, and pulled out her flipper, the top row of fake teeth many contestants wore to hide gaps from missing teeth.

For all his experience, Kyle had not known about this, and he was surprised that Brianna apparently had a second row of teeth.

“Oh! For a second there I thought you had a second lot of teeth; like a shark,” he laughed, and Brianna laughed, too.

“Yeah, it's my flipper. You're lucky you don't need one. If you lost a tooth, would you have to wear one?”

“I don't know.” Kyle had never thought about it before. The rules for the boys weren't as strict as they were for the girls, but he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he did lose a tooth. He doubted Sheila would make him wear a flipper, as he had pretty much all of his adult teeth, but he'd seen other boys with missing teeth, so maybe it wouldn't matter either way. To be fair, those boys didn't have Sheila Broflovski for a mother.

“I guess you won't need to. Want some candy?” Brianna produced a bag and offered it to him.

“What are those?” Kyle looked in the bag to see pastel coloured chewy squares.

“They're called Squidglets; they're really yummy. Try some!” She waved the bag in front of him, and Kyle hesitated. He hadn't eaten since that morning, bar a snack after the Beauty round. He supposed a little bit of candy would be okay.

“Sure, thanks,” he reached in and took one.

“Come on, take more!” she prompted, putting a few more in his hand. Kyle allowed her to do so, and popped a sweet into his mouth.

“Mm! You're right; these are yummy!” He had to eat another one, they were so good.

“I told you. I have these all the time.”

For a moment, they sat in silence watching the other contestants perform their talent routines. As per usual, it was mainly singers and dancers. “Well, I gotta go get changed now,” Brianna said, after the pre-teen age group had finished. “Outfit of Choice is one of my favourites, 'cause I get to wear my Popcorn outfit.”

Brianna usually wore a Popcorn Girl costume for her Outfit of Choice; a red and white striped two-piece dress, with a red, ruffled petticoat underneath. The skirt was decorated in fake popcorn kernels, and she had a mini popcorn box attached to her headband. “You've never seen it before, have you? My Popcorn outfit?” she asked, and Kyle shook his head.

“Don't think I have.”

“Well, stick around when you're done, so you can watch my routine.”

“All right,” he agreed, unable to resist pulling a displeased face. “Ugh, I hate doing Outfit of Choice.”

“Why?”

“I hate my outfit. That stupid cowboy thing.” Whenever a pageant had the Outfit of Choice category, Sheila always made Kyle wear his Western Wear attire, and he hated it with every fibre of his being.

“Oh, I think it looks nice. Well, see ya in a bit!” Brianna jumped up from the chair, and waved at him as she left the room.

Kyle continued to watch the pageant by himself; Jake was off somewhere, and Kyle didn't feel like going to look for him.

He yawned just as Sheila came to get him, and without thinking, rubbed his eyes, smudging his makeup.

“Kyle!” she grabbed his arm. “Now look what you've done! Come with me.” She took him back into the back room, where the contestants got ready, and pointed to a chair.

Kyle sat, and Sheila began removing the makeup. “Did you forget you were wearing it, bubbe?” she asked, and Kyle nodded. “You must remember not to rub your eyes in the future; now we need to do your eye makeup all over again.”

“Oh, no,” Kyle groaned, and Sheila frowned at him.

“You wait right here; I'm gonna go get Tony. You need to get changed soon; you can't be late on stage,” she said, before leaving the room.

She soon returned with Tony, who smiled sympathetically at Kyle.

“Rubbed your eyes?” he asked, and Kyle only nodded, not looking forward to this. “Don't worry; you know I'll be gentle,” Tony assured him, pulling out the dreaded eyeliner. Those words meant nothing to Kyle, as he leaned back in his chair as Tony held up the pen to his face.

“Kyle, you know you have to keep still,” Sheila told him.

“I don't like the eyeliner; I hate it,” Kyle admitted, shocking himself. He supposed it was because he was tired. He hardly dared look at his mother.

“Well, I'm sorry, bubbe, but you need to wear it. This is non-negotiable. Now, keep still.”

Of course, Kyle did as he was told, his face contorted with discomfort.

* * *

“Welcome back, Miss America!” Cartman beamed as Kyle walked into class on Monday morning.

“Fuck off, Cartman!” Kyle snapped, the faint circles under his eyes betraying how angry he was.

“Jeez, Kahl, what's your problem? Did you lose? Did you _lose_ the _beauty_ pageant?” Cartman grinned, clearly having the time of his life.

“None of your business, wide load,” Kyle scowled as he sat down.

“Oh, so you did lose, then? Did you come in last place?”

“I said, fuck off!” Kyle growled, as chuckles began to arise, as he knew it would. God damn it, weren't they sick of these stupid jokes yet?

“There's no need to feel ashamed, Kahl,” said Cartman soothingly. “You'll get it next time.”

Kyle thought about the National Talent trophy, sash, and crown he had picked up that weekend. He was so tempted to say he'd won, just to shut Cartman up, but he knew it wouldn't work. All it would do would add more fuel to the fire.

So, he clenched his fists, and set his jaw as he stared up at the table.

“Give it a rest, fat ass,” said Stan, but of course, Cartman ignored him.

“I want Kahl to tell the whole class about how he _lost_ the _beauty_ pageant, about how he came last. That's what happened, isn't it, Kahl? I guess that list the girls made was true, wasn't it?”

“I didn't lose, you fat piece of shit!” Kyle hissed without thinking, but Cartman's grin only grew wider.

“Oh, so you _won?_ In that case, then you deserve a congratulations!” Cartman stood up, and cleared his throat loudly. _“There she is, Miss America,_

_There she is, your ideal_

_The dream of a million girls who are more than pretty_

_Can come true in Atlantic City_

_For she may turn out to be_

_The Queen of femininity_

_There she is, Miss America_

_There she is, your ideal...”_

While Cartman sang, Kyle felt himself getting redder and redder. As the laughter from around him grew louder, with Cartman singing louder to compensate for it, his felt his temper rising.

He stood up, knocking his chair back, and in one quick movement, punched Cartman in the face so hard he crumpled to the ground. Cartman immediately started wailing, his voice rising in pitch and volume every second, his mouth wide.

Rubbing his sore knuckles, Kyle only sat back down as Cartman stumbled out of the room, his hands covering his face, past Mr Garrison, who didn't even look twice.

Stan sat back down, as well, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“Dude, that was awesome!” he whispered, grinning, and Kyle had to smile as well. He felt a bit better, now.

“I'll never understand why he keeps antagonising you, when he knows you can beat him to a pulp,” said Kenny, who was also grinning. Honestly, it was always great seeing Cartman be taken down a peg or two. Perhaps one of these days, one of those punches might do something to his brain, and he'd see the error of his ways. Of course, Kenny knew that was wishful thinking; there was as much chance of that happening than there was of him making it through the week without dying.

“True, but I'm not complaining,” Kyle shrugged, and Kenny chuckled.

Cartman re-entered the classroom in the middle of first period, holding an ice pack to his cheek, the left side of his face red. He glared at Kyle as he sat down, but he said nothing.

Eric Cartman might be a racist, manipulative sociopath, and could even be considered intelligent by some, but he was not one to back away from a chance to make others miserable, and that was why he resumed belittling Kyle later on during break.

After his now usual trip to the nurse's office, Kyle entered the playground to find Cartman and Kenny kneeling down together, with Stan waiting for him.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked.

“Are you sure you're allowed to play with us Kahl?” asked Cartman sweetly, a big bruise on the side of his face. “Won't it ruin your manicure?”

“I don't have a manicure, fatass!” Kyle snapped.

“Sure you don't, princess,” Cartman smirked, enjoying the way Kyle seethed with rage.

Unusual for him, Kyle only stamped away, muttering angrily under his breath, and Stan didn't hesitate to follow him.

“Dude, you okay?” Stan asked, seeing Kyle sitting by himself on the edge of the playground.

“Fine,” was Kyle said, but Stan sat down next to him. “Stan, please. I just wanna be alone right now.”

Stan stayed where he was. “Stan, I'll be fine. I just wanna sit here.”

Stan could only stand up slowly.

“Sure, dude. We'll be waiting for you,” he said, before walking away, keeping one eye on his friend.

Kyle rested his chin in his hand and stared at the snowy ground. He was glad he'd punched Cartman (more so than usual), because he hoped it would signal the end of the teasing. Maybe if the other boys were afraid of getting punched, they would stop mocking him. But, on the other hand, it had never worked before, so why should it start now? He didn't know what to do; there seemed to be no solution to his problems. Even winning the Ultimate Grand Supreme wouldn't help, as he would still be teased, and quitting wasn't an option, as it would upset his mother. He felt as if he were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Hey, Kyle?” Kyle looked up to see Wendy standing over him.

“Hey, what's up?” He made to stand, but Wendy sat down.

“I just wanted to let you know that I think it's really great what you're doing,” she said, and Kyle lifted his head.

“What?”

“You know the whole pageant thing. Maybe you doing this will make people become more tolerant of it. I think it's a really brave thing to do.”

“Oh, you do?” he asked lightly, keeping his gaze fixed on his knees. “I didn't think you'd care either way. I mean, you're such a feminist, and all.”

“Oh, I hate them, make no mistake,” she said firmly. “I think they're terrible; judging people based on their appearance, making them think they aren't worth anything unless they have a tonne of makeup on; the idea of it is just so disgusting and degrading. But, I respect your choice to do it, and I'll support you.” She smiled and then headed back over to her friends, leaving Kyle wondering how that was supposed to make him feel better. He only scowled to himself and bunched his hands into fists.

* * *

Kyle arrived home from school that day, intending to watch a little TV, and have a rest, before it was time to practise, because that was just what his life entailed now. At least Sheila had stopped entering him in the little local pageants every weekend, but that didn't mean he didn't have to practise every day.

“Is that you, bubbe?” Sheila called, and Kyle closed his eyes.

“Yeah, Ma,” he answered wearily, and Sheila came into the living-room, looking excited. Kyle knew that look; whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good for him.

“I've just got the most amazing phone call!” she beamed, and Kyle's stomach dropped.

“Not “Toddlers and Tiaras” again!” he said firmly. “I don't wanna do that.”

“No, it's not that. The lady who called is called Janet Cooper, and she's a film maker.”

Kyle's stomach dropped even further, if that were possible.

“Oh, no. No, no, no!” he said. “That can't happen!”

“Well, why not?” Sheila stood in front of the television, frowning slightly. “She said she heard about you, and wants to do a documentary about pageant boys to help get rid of some of the stigma around it. You tell me what is so bad about that?”

“That would be terrible!” said Kyle, now on his feet. “You don't think she's gonna make us look like freaks? Or that she'll only show the bad stuff? You can't do this!”

“I can't do this? Who's the parent here, me or you? It's not going to be like that; I've seen her other films – she called me this morning – and they're really good. No manipulative stuff.”

“No, I don't wanna do it; I don't want any part of it,” Kyle insisted, folding his arms.

“Well, I'm afraid you have to; I've already said yes.”

“What?!” Kyle stared up at her in horror. “No, you can't! You gotta call her and tell her you changed your mind!”

“I'm not gonna do that,” she told him. “Why are you acting like this is such a big deal? You know what like is like for a pageant boy; if this helps raise awareness, what's wrong with that?”

“Because it's not gonna help. People already tease m.. pageant kids, why would this change anything?”

“I really think it will help,” said Sheila, “so I'm not telling her no. This will be great for us, I know it.”

“I won't do it,” said Kyle obstinately.

“Excuse me? I just told you that I'm the parent, not you, and you will do as I say.”

“I won't!” Kyle stuck his chin out defiantly.

“You have no choice. I've said yes, so we're doing it. Also, we might get other phone calls, as she wants to promote it.” She left the room, and Kyle could slump back onto the sofa, face contorted with horror. This was not going to end well. That two-second clip of him on “Toddlers and Tiaras” had already ruined his life, and now he was going to have to deal with this. Wasn't he already being teased enough? Why did God hate him so much? There was no way out of this; he should have told his mother he wanted to quit while he still had the chance.

Closing his eyes, Kyle rubbed his forehead as another headache came, and he sighed. What was he supposed to do?

* * *

Kyle spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual horror, dreading the moment this film maker would arrive to ruin his life forever.

Currently, he was on his computer, absent-mindedly scrolling through before evening practise began. He wondered if he could access his college fund and just leave. If he could just get that money, he would be able to just pack up and go. Honestly, it was the only option he could think of.

Deep down he knew it wouldn't work; Sheila would track him down. He wouldn't even be able to access his money without her knowing.

There wasn't anything he could do, except wait for this woman to come and make him even more of a laughing stock than he already was.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing his hands over his eyes as yet another headache made its arrival.

When it had subsided somewhat, Kyle resumed scrolling randomly, before he saw a photo of himself, and he started. It was an article. An article about him! On the Internet, where anyone and everyone could read it! This must be what his mother meant by promoting it. God, he might as well just change his name.

Knowing he was going to regret it, Kyle began to read.

' _This is Kyle Broflovski. He is nine years old and lives in South Park, Colorado with his parents and little brother. But Kyle isn't an ordinary nine year old boy; he is a pageant king and competes regularly in national competitions._

_Ever since he started competing a year and a half ago, Kyle has become one of, if not the most, successful boys on the pageant circuit, with eleven national titles to his name, including Overall Photogenic Supreme, Prince Charming USA and Overall National Talent._

_'It's very rare for a boy to really succeed in pageants,' says pageant director Aileen Roberts, when asked what was it about Kyle Broflovski that made him win so much, even beating out tough competitions from dozens of little girls. 'The judges look for someone who's having fun on stage, a child who is enjoying themselves; they score very highly for that, and the most important thing is facial beauty. Kyle has a beautiful face, which is probably why he wins so much.'_

_Kyle's mother Sheila, who openly admits that it was her decision to enter him in pageants, couldn't be prouder of her son's success._

_"I never dreamed that he would get so much attention; it's getting to the point where people know him when we arrive to compete,” she gushes._

_Since Kyle started competing on the pageant scene a year ago, his life has been an endless bout of photo shoots, private basketball lessons (for the talent round), modelling lessons with his coach and travelling, but Sheila says they wouldn't have it any other way.'_

When he had finished, Kyle slumped over his desk, his eyes closed. Forget going to school, he never wanted to leave the house. The stupid article even had a picture of him, hair and makeup and everything. Just his luck. To say he was unimpressed would be the understand of the century.

But when did his mother talk to these people? She had obviously gone behind his back. Great. Now he had this to deal with on top of everything else.

Sighing and pinching his nose, Kyle closed his computer before heading to the garage to practise.

On the way down there, he found himself thinking about a line from the article; Sheila had said people knew him, but did they, really? Now that he thought about it properly, he supposed it was true. He had quite a few pageant friends, and people would greet him by name when they saw him. But Kyle was too busy hating himself and the whole pageant scene to notice things like that. It didn't make him feel good to discover that people knew him, but he couldn't figure out why.

He had new moves to perfect, so Kyle tried to empty his mind in order to focus. It was difficult, though; he was _so_ pissed off; at his mother, at the kids at school, at pageants.

“You ready?” called Sheila, and Kyle only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He stood to the side, waiting for the music to start. When it did, he put on his smile, hoping that it would improve his mood.

_'Think of happy stuff,'_ he told himself, as he walked over to the first X, but it wasn't working as well as it usually did. The smile came on its own now, anyway, so Kyle focused on getting his new routine right. He went through his Beauty walk, feeling a little bit glad that this had also become muscle memory for him; it meant he didn't have to concentrate that much.

After that, it was time for Casual Wear. Sheila didn't want Kyle to have the exact same routine for every category, and so every one was slightly different. The moves were still the same, but the orders were changed, so that they appeared different. Kyle was one of the very few boys who actually had a full routine, which really made him stand out, which was exactly what Sheila wanted.

At Sheila's request, Tony had taught Kyle some extra moves to pad out his routines. Now, when Kyle stood on the first X, he would hold his right arm up and out to the side, with the palm out, like he was signalling someone to stop. His left arm was bent at the elbow, with the hand by his chest, also with with his palm out, and he would do a turn like that.

Afterwards, he would put his left hand on his hip, and slowly raise his right arm outward, while nodding, and stepping to the right at the same time. While doing this, his left foot slid in, so his feet end up touching. He then repeated the actions for his left side. After that came the other moves Tony had already taught him, including what he called the “Pizzas,” where Kyle held his hands out like he was carrying pizzas, and turned.

On the 3rd X, Kyle would now hold his lapel, then turn. Then, he would hold his imaginary cuffs, turning to the right, resting his right heel on the ground, then doing the same with his left. Then he continued with the rest of the routine.

Focusing on keeping his smile looking natural, Kyle walked back up the fake catwalk, being sure to remember a sharp turn halfway up, and performed his spin while removing his jacket. At last, Tony seemed to have realised that walking with his hands on his hips didn't really suit Kyle, and so he had axed it. Now, all Kyle had to do was keep his arms loose as he walked.

While doing another turn, he placed the jacket over his left arm, and walked over to the last X, keeping his arm out straight. Once he was there, he did another turn, ending up with his back to the audience. There, he let the jacket fall down to his wrist, and caught it at the collar. Even though he was concentrating hard, he still felt annoyed at the fact that he had practised this routine enough that he knew exactly how to lay the jacket on his arm to be able to grab the collar when it fell. As he was doing this, he looked over his shoulder, smiling at the imaginary judges, before swinging the jacket over his shoulder.

Turning around to face the front, Kyle leaned back on his left foot, and gave the judges a finger gun, clicking his tongue, silently hating himself. He placed his right hand on his hip, and raised his left arm, still holding the jacket, and walked in a wide circle. Facing the audience once again, he smiled, and tucked his jacket under his left arm, he took a step forward and did a half turn, and took another step forward, and did another half turn. He waved at the 'audience' before stepping off.

“Ow,” he mumbled, letting his smile drop, closing his eyes at the pain in his head.

“That was good, bubbe,” said Sheila as she came over to him, and Kyle kept his face neutral. “You're really getting the hang of those moves; it was the first time you didn't forget your routine.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Kyle said, putting on his jacket.

“It just needs to be smoother, but practise will help with that. Right, we'll do it one more time, and then we'll stop; you need to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Kyle was too annoyed to ask what she meant by, and frankly, he didn't care. His life was already over; there wasn't much else she could do to make it worse.

Once practise was over, he silently dragged himself upstairs, and went to bed, but not without washing his face, lest Sheila come down on him like a tonne of bricks, before falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The following afternoon, he was sitting in the back of the car, earbuds in, glued to his phone. He didn't know where they were going, and he didn't care. It was probably another stupid photoshoot, because Sheila just _had_ to have new pictures taken every other month or so. So, great, another day of being pulled to and fro, of being forced to sit for makeup, and having to do those ridiculous poses.

He and Stan chatted over WhatsApp as Sheila drove out of South Park, and into Denver. He only looked up from the screen when they had stopped and she opened his door.

“We're here, bubbe,” she said.

“Where?” Kyle put his earbuds in his pocket and got out of the car. He saw they were parked outside of a fairly ordinary looking building, with plain white wall, and a black front door. Sheila had his portfolio tucked under her arm.

“KidStar Modelling Agency. It was part of your prize, remember?”

“Right,” he said, wishing he could just get in the car and go home. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Kyle, why are you being so negative lately?”

“I'm not being nega-”

“Yes, you are. I'm trying my best to help you here, and all you do is throw everything back in my face.”

“How is this gonna help me? Help me with what?”

“Come on, Kyle, imagine how great it would be if you got signed. Being in magazines would be amazing for your self-esteem, wouldn't it?” she asked, her tone gentle. “That's why we're doing all this. We worked really hard to get here, so I think we should at least hear what they have to say. Besides, if they sign you, you could make a lot of money; think of your college fund, bubbe!”

When Sheila turned and headed inside, Kyle rolled his eyes before following her. He bit the insides of his cheeks, too annoyed to speak as Sheila spoke to the receptionist, and they were taken to a small waiting room. After a while, a smiling, professionally dressed woman came into the room.

“Hello!” she grinned, shaking Sheila's hand. “Sheila Broflovski? Hi, I'm Mary; I'm one of the directors. It's nice to meet you. You are?” She directed this at Kyle as she shook his hand.

“Kyle,” he replied, and they all sat down.

“Hi, Kyle. So, you won the Citrus pageant?” She asked Kyle, who nodded.

“Yes, I'm very proud of him; we're really excited to be here. We're interested in the modelling. Magazines, commercials, TV, and everything like that, you know?”

Upon hearing the words 'commercials' and 'TV', Kyle whipped his head up to look sharply at his mother.

“What?” he said, but Sheila continued speaking.

“Yes, I think it would be great for him.”

Mary smiled politely, before turning back to Kyle.

“And how old are you, Kyle?”

“Nine,” he said.

“He'll be ten next May,” said Sheila.

“Okay, and how long have you been competing?” asked Mary.

Kyle opened his mouth, but Sheila got there first.

“We started a few months before his eighth birthday, so we've been doing them for about fourteen or fifteen months.”

“Oh, so you're still quite new to the circuit, aren't you?”

“Yes, but he's won some very high titles like, -” Sheila reached forward and turned a couple of pages in the portfolio. “Look, 'National Portfolio' – this portfolio – 'Overall Personality', and 'Photogenic Supreme'.”

“Right. Can I see the portfolio?” Mary asked, and Sheila handed the folder over. She kept her face professionally neutral as she flipped through the pictures, though she nodded in approval every so often. She turned the page to see a picture of Kyle in his Talent costume and holding his basketball. “Is this for the pageants, Kyle? The basketball?”

“Not just for the pageants, he's been on his school team for years,” said Sheila, “but we get him private lessons to teach him tricks for the competitions.”

“And how long have you been playing basketball?” Mary said to Kyle.

“Um, about -”

“It's been, what, three or four years, hasn't it, bubbe?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, unable to keep the look of boredom off his face, or hold back the small sigh that escaped from his mouth.

“What do you think?” asked Sheila, shifting forward in her chair.

“Well, he's got some really nice pictures, he's good-looking, and he photographs well. I'll just need to have a quick talk with the other directors. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

At Sheila's nod, Mary stood, and left the room, Kyle's portfolio in her hand.

“Are you excited, bubbe?” asked Sheila when they were alone.

“No,” said Kyle, surprising them both. “I don't want to do this.”

“You don't want to earn lots of money, and be in magazines?”

“No,” Kyle insisted. “I've never wanted that, just like I don't want to be in that stupid documentary.” He didn't know where this was coming from, but he was too full of adrenaline to worry about it.

“You've never mentioned this before,” said Sheila. “But, honestly, I think this will be really good for you, we'd be crazy to turn them down!”

“It won't be good for me, Ma.”

“Of course it would,” Sheila kept her voice low, so as not to be overheard.

Meanwhile, Mary was in another room, with fellow director Leslie, who was looking through Kyle's portfolio.

“What do you think of them?” asked Leslie.

“Well, he's cute, I'll give him that; very attractive,” said Mary.

“Did you get to speak to him?”

“No; every time I asked him something, his mother jumped in and spoke.”

“Ah. Pushy parent?”

“You got it. I've dealt with her type before. She would be a nightmare for a booker,” Mary said, having seen this personally more times than she cared to remember. “You can tell the kid's being forced into it.”

“Too bad; we could have used him.” Leslie gestured to the open portfolio. “He would be good for the Orange Juice promo.”

“I know. Well,” Mary sighed. “I'll go and tell her the usual, you know? If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call the police,” she joked, before picking up the portfolio, and heading back to the Broflovskis, putting on her professional face. “Hello, again,” she smiled, sitting back down. “So, I've just been speaking with the other director. We both agree that you're very handsome, Kyle, but unfortunately, we just don't have anything they can use you for for the time being.” She didn't miss Kyle sigh of relief, nor did she miss the disappointed look on Sheila's face. “We'll keep you on file, though, so perhaps if something comes up in the future, we might give you a call.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for meeting us.” Sheila stood quickly and shook Mary's hand, not even pretending to be happy. Kyle shook her hand, as well, grinning widely, and he could have sworn that she gave him a little wink.

“Well, that's that,” said Kyle brightly as they returned to the car.

“Not really,” said Sheila curtly. “We still have two more agencies to see later.” She chose to ignore the look of shock horror on Kyle's face as she got behind the wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done. What did you think? I'd love to know.  
> I feel really bad about mentioning JonBenet here. I mean no disrespect to her memory at all, but I really felt that it was something Cartman would say.  
> So, should Kyle get a modelling job or two?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, that's the first chapter done. What do you think?
> 
> I would just like to mention that I am in no way implying that all pageant parents act like Sheila; this is simply how I would imagine her to be; I think she can be quite manipulative.


End file.
